This joy, this sorrow
by Gertrude2034
Summary: House helped her through a serious illness, but now the tables have turned and he's the one who needs looking after. Epilogue added: House and Chloe go on a “babymoon” vacation before their baby is born, but things don't quite go to plan. Pt 3 of trilogy.
1. Chapter 1

Hi everyone. After finishing the last House/Chloe story I really did try to write a different story, even got a few thousand words into it, but then this came into my head and wouldn't leave me alone... Hope you all enjoy.

Many thanks to Gypsy71 - she encouraged me to write a sequel to "Too little, too late?" and then in gratitude I went and stole (well, borrowed with permission) some of the plot from one of her very excellent stories! Thanks Gypsy!

* * *

--

Chloe sighed as she put the key into the lock. She couldn't wait to flop down on the sofa and take her shoes off. Her feet were killing her and she was bone tired. Surprised to find the television on when she walked inside, she peeked over the sofa cushions to find House, stretched out, watching some unidentifiable sitcom.

"Hi honey, I'm home," Chloe called sarcastically. She kicked off her shoes and went and stood near House's feet, waiting until he lifted them slightly. She sat down and pulled his legs back into her lap, resting her hands on his calves.

House still hadn't spoken or moved his eyes from the screen. Over the past twelve months of living together, Chloe had become better at reading his strange moods. She knew this one had two mostly likely causes.

"So, did someone die or was someone saved?" she asked, gently rubbing the legs resting in her lap.

"Died," came the gruff response.

"Do we know why?"

"Yes."

Well, that was something, Chloe thought. At least he'd get some sleep tonight and that meant so would she. No doubt there'd also be some sex in the near future. He'd told her once that sexual desire was considered a normal psychological reaction to grief. She wondered if he'd actually read that or if it was just wisdom from his own personal experience, because she'd discovered a definite pattern between a patient's death and his especially desperate and passionate lovemaking.

As she trailed her hands over his legs in some approximation of massage, Chloe yawned and wondered absently if they'd reached the end of the honeymoon period of their relationship, because she wasn't sure whether she was looking forward more to the sex or the sleep. He'd been called in to the hospital around four that morning and after he'd gone she'd been wide awake. She had a huge consulting job currently going, one that could mean a significant promotion if everything went well, so she'd eventually risen and taken advantage of the early start to do some prep work for the day. Then she'd spent most of the afternoon walking around a factory site – not what her Prada pumps were exactly designed for.

"Hey, do you think we could get something reciprocal going here?" Chloe asked. "My feet are killing me. I spent three hours this afternoon walking around a carpet factory."

She knew from experience there was no point asking for more details about his day. If he wanted to share them they'd come out – first hesitantly, then in a flood – sometime during the evening. Probably right when she wanted to go to sleep.

"I've told you before, wench, I don't do massage," House grumbled. But when Chloe twisted around on the sofa to put her feet in front him, he raised himself a little and started rubbing them. He watched as Chloe leaned back, forgetting her massage of his legs, her eyes closing and lips parting in a sigh. House wondered when he'd become so domesticated. And, more importantly, when he'd learned to like it.

He dug his thumbs into the arches of her feet, rubbing along the sensitive inner side of her foot. Despite his protests, he was very adept at massage and she knew it. _I'm completely pussy whipped_, House thought. Why else could a woman walk into his home, shove him aside to sit on his sofa, then push her stinky feet into his face and have him not only rub them, but enjoy doing it?

He moved his hands up to her ankles then stroked her calves as far up as her suit pants would allow. He watched as a smile curved on her mouth.

"Why aren't you wearing a skirt?" he demanded.

"I told you, factory tour," Chloe replied, eyes still closed. "I've found it's far more productive if people are actually looking at my face when we talk."

"Hmm," House murmured, tickling the inside of her calf and raising one of her legs to press a kiss just under the inside of her ankle. "I can see where a skirt might be an advantage. Distract your enemy, have them agree to anything while they're ogling your legs."

"Yeah, that sounds like a sure-fire negotiation strategy," Chloe said sarcastically.

"Even better, a low cut blouse," House suggested further, reaching over to pull meaningfully on the discreet, high-necked knit that Chloe wore under her suit jacket.

Chloe smiled a little to herself. She wondered what he would think if he could see her out on the factory floor, surrounded by predominantly male union bosses, arguing the latest benefits package. Not that she'd ever been really unsafe, but she'd certainly felt threatened at times, and her clothing was always chosen to be carefully neutral in the whole equation. She needed to be considered an equal in the bargaining and she didn't need them wondering about what she looked like naked as a distraction.

"So are we going to have sex or what?" Chloe asked, opening her eyes to give House a suggestive smile.

"Thought you'd never ask," he growled.

"As if that would stop you."

They got up and made their way down the corridor into the bedroom with the easy companionship of two people who knew each other well. Despite their familiarity there was still a sense of excitement, both still slightly desperate in their need for each other.

"You're on top." House whispered in her ear as they reached the bed.

"Leg? Or just your general preference today?" Chloe asked, concerned. She'd noticed his leg had been giving him more trouble over the past week or so.

In lieu of answering, House kissed her deeply then pushed her onto the bed. She watched as he undressed, slowly removing her own clothing too. She saw him flinch a little as he pulled his jeans off. It was definitely the leg.

Chloe lay back, pulling House with her as he climbed onto the bed. As he leaned over he starting kissing her breast, using his tongue to lave her nipple. When he began tangling his fingers into the curls between her legs, she sent up her usual superstitious prayer.

_Dear dead person_, Chloe began. House never told her his patients' names; she'd thought it was because he was protecting their confidentiality until Wilson once mentioned to her that it was more likely because he didn't know them. _Dear dead person,_ Chloe silently prayed, _I'm sorry that you died and I'm really sorry for the loss of your family and friends. But I hope you don't mind that, because you died, this man is going to give me a mind-blowing orgasm. I hope that's okay with you. Amen. _

She groaned aloud as two of his fingers made their way inside her. She knew her prayer was ridiculous, but it made her feel better, knowing that she'd made peace with his motivation.

* * *

--

Later, lying in bed, slightly sweaty and still tingling between her legs, Chloe's stomach gurgled loudly.

"So it's not enough that I satisfy your every need in bed, now you want me to feed you too?" House complained, his head tucked against her breast, one finger lazily tracing circles around her navel.

Chloe gave a short laugh. "Yeah, as if you've ever cooked."

"Hey, dialling counts," House said, mock-injured.

"Actually, I can't decide if I feel hungry or sick," Chloe said truthfully. "Stupid Maggie has been coming into work for the last few days with a gross stomach bug that her youngest kid picked up at kindergarten. I'll kill her if she's given it to me."

"There's another good reason not to have any of those little buggers around." House said casually. "They're basically nature's germ carriers."

Chloe couldn't help the automatic tense of her muscles at his remark. House often made similar comments – generally themed around why they were better off without having children. Chloe was sure he did it to make her feel better about her infertility, perhaps trying to reassure both of them that it was no big deal. But every time he brought it up it just reminded Chloe of something she'd never have, something she could never give him. She just wished he'd leave it alone.

To change her thoughts, she wriggled out of House's embrace and pulled on a silky robe.

"Come on, go do some dialling. I guess once food arrives I'll soon work out which one it is."

Reluctantly, House got up and pulled on jeans and a t-shirt. He groaned at the effort of reaching his bad leg through the clothing.

"You okay?" Chloe asked lightly, knowing not to express her concern too dramatically, knowing he'd bite at any intimation that he was less than fine.

"Nothing a couple of Vicodin won't kill, you desperate woman, you," he joked back. "I should know by now that you leave no prisoners in your search for satisfaction."

Chloe rolled her eyes at the silly comment, but decided to leave it at that.

A half-hour later they were sitting on the sofa watching TV when the pizza arrived. House paid and brought the box over, settling it on the coffee table and opening the lid.

Chloe's stomach did a little flip at the smell of the salami and cheese, but she'd eaten very little that day and thought it was probably just a reaction to her body's need for food. She picked up a piece and took a large bite, enjoying the spicy flavour. It was a really good pizza.

"Mmm, yum," she said, between mouthfuls.

As she took another bite she suddenly was overwhelmed by a wave of nausea. She knew there was no way she could swallow the piece she had in her mouth. She froze for a second not sure what to do.

House looked at her.

"It was sick, not hungry, wasn't it?" he asked. "I really hope you make it to the bathroom in time." He took another huge bite of the pizza and went back to watching the television.

Chloe rose from the sofa and made it into the bathroom just in time to slam the door and make it to the toilet.

After sitting on the cool tiles for a little while, she decided she felt well enough to move in to the bedroom. She couldn't possibly go back into the lounge with the smell of that pizza, watching as House ate. She washed her face and rinsed her mouth, returning to the bedroom and the bed's rumpled covers from their earlier activities.

She took off the robe and pulled on one of House's old t-shirts, her usual nightwear, climbing under the comforter.

A few minutes later House came in with a glass of water.

"If you give me those germs I'm going to kill you," he said, setting the water down on the nightstand.

"Hey, with the amount of germs you're around on a daily basis, I don't think you could ever trace something back to me."

"Yeah? We'll see about that." He ruffled a hand through her hair briefly and then went back to the lounge. "Get some sleep," he said over his shoulder as he left the room.

* * *

--

House woke from an unsettled sleep and looked at the clock. It was three am and his head was aching and his stomach was roiling.

_Damn. I've picked up that stupid bug_, he thought. It probably hadn't been such a good idea to eat the piece of pizza Chloe had left unfinished when she'd made the dash to the bathroom. But it had been very good pizza. And it probably didn't matter, given they'd swapped a lot more than spit earlier in the evening anyway.

He moved as fast as he could to the bathroom and spent a while there, sitting on the floor next to the toilet.

Eventually Chloe knocked lightly on the door and came in.

"Sorry," was all she said.

"So you should be," he answered, rising gingerly and putting one arm around her shoulders, letting her help him back to bed.

They both lay in bed for a while, sipping water. Then it was Chloe's turn to run for the bathroom.

House tried to get more comfortable against the pillows. He couldn't help smiling at the thoughts that crossed his mind as he watched Chloe, face pale, return to the bedroom with a basin and a couple of towels. She'd been laying a few hints recently about commitment – specifically marriage. Nothing overt, just the odd comment about engagement rings, likes and dislikes at weddings. House had easily seen the undertone. But what were rings and weddings really? Taking turns in the bathroom puking; watching someone throw up and knowing you still wanted to kiss them, wanted to look after them? Now _that_ was commitment. He reached over to try to pull Chloe into a hug.

She slapped his hands away.

"Don't touch me," she said brusquely. Then, her tone softer, "Sorry, I just don't think I can cope with it. It will make me want to throw up again."

"Nice," House said, a bit hurt, especially given what he'd just been thinking.

Chloe reached over and grasped his hand in hers. She had learned the hard way that underneath all that crusty exterior, House was fragile in the worst way. Even just a simple off-hand comment could send him into a dark, self-pitying mood.

"There," she said. "I can do that. Is that okay?"

House just snorted as if still miffed, but he squeezed her hand.

They both fell asleep for a couple of hours, waking again in the early morning.

Chloe got up and managed to make a cup of tea, the smell of coffee not something she thought she could cope with. She showered and dressed, deciding that if she managed to do that without throwing up then she could probably go to work. She really needed to go in, and besides, this new project had meant she'd been feeling nauseous with stress for weeks now anyway, so this wasn't all that different to most days. It had been great for her waistline, but she couldn't let it get in the way of a successful outcome to the negotiations.

She went back into the bedroom to tell House she was planning to go in. She took one look at him and realised he was suffering far worse than she. He'd been working so hard for the past few days, getting very little sleep, so Chloe figured he was probably run-down and more susceptible to the bug.

She reached down and touched the back of her hand to his forehead. He was hot.

House cracked open an eye to look at her.

"I feel like shit," he grumbled. His stomach was churning, his head pounding, and to top it off his leg was killing him. He'd taken a couple of Vicodin before bed, but the dose he'd tried to take at three hadn't stayed down and it didn't feel like any would be soon.

"I'm really sorry," Chloe apologised, crouching down next to the bed. "Can I get you something? I was planning to go into work, but do you need me to stay home and look after you?"

House thought about it, through the haze of illness feeling the warmth that never failed to surprise him. Someone cared about him. There was someone around to look after him. He wondered for about the millionth time what exactly he'd done to deserve it.

But despite those feelings he knew he just wanted to curl up and be left alone. That was the best way for him to recover. But he couldn't resist a little stab to make her feel guilty for not being as sick as he was.

"Nah, go to work. I'll just suffer here by myself."

Chloe looked at him, concerned, wondering if she should stay anyway.

"Really, go. I'm just going to sleep. And throw up, probably. You could call work for me though." He _loved_ the fact that he had someone else to call in sick for him. He wished he could see Cuddy's face when she got the call.

"Okay, I'll call when I get to work, it's still a bit early." Chloe rose and gathered her suit jacket from the back of a chair. "I'll call you through the day to see how you're going and if I can manage it I'll come home at lunchtime."

House nodded and shivered.

"Can you get me another blanket before you go?" he said, a not-entirely-put-on pathetic tone in his voice. "Think I have a fever."

Chloe grabbed a rug from the chair and smoothed it over him. She leant over and pressed a kiss against his damp forehead, taking in the strong smell of him, sweaty and male. She waited to see how her stomach would react, relieved when it stayed still.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thanks for your kind words everyone! Now I remember why this is so addictive...

* * *

--

House fell asleep again after Chloe left, but woke a couple of hours later. His leg was killing him and there wasn't a single position in bed that was comfortable. His mouth was dry, and he tried again to take some Vicodin, taking the smallest sip of water he could manage, but just a minute later was bending over the edge of the bed, his stomach in full revolt.

Figuring he wasn't going to sleep any further he managed to get himself out of bed and, swearing with each step, dragged himself into the kitchen. He pulled an icepack from the freezer and managed to make it to the lounge and lie out on the sofa, letting out a hiss of pain when he lifted his leg into place. He wrapped the icepack in a towel and laid it on his thigh carefully.

House tried to distract himself, thinking about anything other than pain and nausea. He flicked on the television and tried a few channels, but he quickly realised that he didn't have the focus to concentrate on a program and turned it off again. Instead he tried to recall the exact details of sex with Chloe the night before, but that lead to thinking about what had happened afterwards, her throwing up, and didn't help him avoid his own nausea.

_Happy thoughts, happy thoughts_.

House searched his brain for something to take away the pain. Bizarrely the moment that came to mind was Chloe's first day back at work after she'd recovered from the last surgery. She'd been nervous, he could tell, and still wasn't quite sure whether to trust her new-found health.

A few days prior, she'd told him that her company had asked if she would relocate to New Jersey permanently. She'd asked what he thought and he'd been noncommittal in his answer, figuring it was her decision to make, not wanting to pressure her. If she decided to move from her home and family in Chicago, he needed to be sure it was because she wanted it. He'd pressured her into staying with him as she recovered, but that was temporary; this was a big decision and it was hers to make.

They'd ended up arguing, neither of them willing to reveal their feelings, each waiting for the other to make the first move. She wanted him to ask her to stay, he wanted her to decide she couldn't live without him.

Much to his own surprise it was House that caved first.

The morning of her first day he'd left a small blue-and-white gift bag on the kitchen counter. He'd watched as she opened it and pulled out a delicate gold-filigree pendant. She'd asked him to put it on her and he'd kissed her neck as he'd wished her luck. She had almost missed the second gift in the bag and House had had to pull it out and hand it to her. A silver key chain, in the shape of a heart. _Home is where the heart is_, he'd meant by it; knowing it was corny; not caring. She'd got it, understood the implied message. And they'd never mentioned their living arrangements again.

The icepack was helping to numb his leg a little, but his headache was still pounding and his stomach still churning. He tried the TV again, resigning himself to a day of misery.

* * *

--

When Chloe got home at lunchtime she found House had moved to the sofa. She didn't really have the time to be coming home, but had been concerned when he hadn't answered her calls. He was probably sleeping, she told herself, but she was worried enough to find time to make the trip. She still felt guilty for bringing the germs home and being the cause of his illness. Even if she was sick too.

The television was on, but House was sleeping. To Chloe's mind, he was breathing a little shallowly, and his face wasn't relaxed in its usual sleep pose, it was still contorted as if in pain. Then she noticed the icepack on his leg. _Of course_, she realised, with a long breath out. If he was throwing up, that meant the Vicodin wasn't staying down. _He must be in agony_, she thought sympathetically.

Trying not to disturb him, she leant over and lightly touched his forehead, finding he was still very warm. She'd seen House with the flu and she'd seen him when his leg was playing up, but this was another level all together. It hadn't even been twelve hours since he'd first been unwell, but he'd gone down hill really fast. She was worried.

Moving into the bedroom to be sure she didn't disturb him, she called Wilson. She didn't feel exactly comfortable doing it – knowing House would be cross with her if he found out – but she knew Wilson would tell her if she was being silly or had a right to be concerned. _Besides_, she figured, _what was the point of having doctors as friends if you couldn't ask their opinion?_

"Hi Chloe," Wilson answered cheerfully. "How's things going? Still putting up with House?" It was their normal banter, but Chloe skipped her usual martyred responses this time.

"Hi James, yeah not bad. D'you mind if I ask you a quick medical question?"

Wilson immediately became concerned at her tone and turned away from the nurse he'd been chatting with.

"Fire away, what's up?"

"Well, Greg's sick. Actually we're both sick. But he's worse than me."

"So that's why I haven't seen him around today. I figured he was still sleeping in after that last patient."

"Yeah, well that would normally be true," Chloe agreed, laughing a little, "but this time he's actually sick."

"So what's the problem?"

"Well it's just a pretty ordinary stomach bug, but because he's been vomiting…"

"…the pain meds aren't working," Wilson finished for her.

"Exactly. And he's got a bit of a fever, so I was just getting a little worried. Do you think it's worth me trying to get him to go in to the clinic?"

Wilson knew Chloe was asking because both of them understood the fight that would be required to get House to agree to go into the hospital. Not to mention the fact that he would probably need to go over there to help Chloe – if House couldn't walk properly, she wasn't strong enough to help him into the car.

"Do you know what his fever is?"

"No, I didn't think to check that. I'll see if I can find a thermometer."

"Just try to keep him drinking some water – small sips – and see if he can keep a Vicodin down, that'll help with the fever as well. I'll come over after my last appointment this afternoon and check on him. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I've just had the upset stomach, I don't think I have a fever." Chloe put her hand to her own forehead, but couldn't tell whether or not she was warmer than normal.

"Well, look after yourself too," Wilson urged.

"I'm fine. I'm going to make sure he's okay and then head back to work. If I'm not here when you come over this afternoon, just let yourself in."

Wilson had offered to give back his spare key when Chloe moved in with House but neither of them would hear of it.

"Okay, but I'll probably see you tonight," Wilson said, fully intending to stay around long enough to check on Chloe too, even if she was well enough to go to work.

Chloe hung up the call, feeling better. She went into the bathroom and rummaged around for a while, eventually finding a digital thermometer at the back of the cabinet.

She ran it under some water to clean it off and then went into the lounge. She roused House, shaking him gently.

"Hey sick boy, how are you?" she asked quietly.

"I'm fine," he said, instinctively sarcastic, blinking up at her as he woke. "What does it look like?"

Ignoring his acidic tone, she held up the thermometer and popped it into his mouth as he opened it to protest. He lay on the sofa shooting her accusing, daggered looks, prevented from speaking for the moment.

"I know, I know. I'm sorry. It's all my fault that you're sick. _Mea culpa_," Chloe said, sitting on the coffee table across from him, giving him a sympathetic look.

She did feel exceptionally guilty as she looked at him, obviously sick and in pain. She had a jolt of realisation, wondering if this was how he felt when she had been sick. He'd told her later that for him, one of the most difficult elements of her illness had been his own sense of culpability in it all – the ectopic pregnancy that had her haemorrhaging in his bed and then, later, the belief that his lovemaking had caused the ovarian torsion that had nearly killed her.

She stared off in the distance, lost in her thoughts while she waited for the thermometer to work. In the last two years they'd been through enough for a lifetime. Her last surgery had thankfully repaired the scarring that had been causing her chronic pain and she was now fully recovered. All that remained to remind her of her illnesses were the surgical scars on her belly and her ridiculously irregular menstrual cycle.

The thermometer beeped at the same time as Chloe's mobile rang. She reached over to pull the thermometer from House's mouth as she flipped open her phone and answered without looking at the screen.

"Hello, Chloe Parker," she answered automatically.

"Chloe?" It was Wilson and he sounded out of breath. "Are you still at home with House?"

"Yes." She looked down at the thermometer in her hand and gave a concerned frown to House. "Oh, Wilson, this can't be good. His temperature is 103."

House closed his eyes and rolled back into the couch, letting out a groan as the movement sent shooting sparks of pain through his thigh.

"I know. I've called an ambulance. Stay there and come into the hospital together."

"Why? What's going on?" Chloe was starting to panic at the anxiety in Wilson's voice.

"House's patient yesterday. He died from bacterial meningitis."

Chloe's stomach dipped dangerously. "And you think…?"

"It's possible – it can be very contagious. Of course they took the right precautions treating him, but we have to be on the safe side."

"Okay, well I guess I'll be seeing you soon." Chloe tried to keep her voice level. She couldn't help it, but the first thing that sprang to mind was the stupid prayer she said to House's dead patients. _I knew you'd pay me back one day_, she thought bitterly, running to the bathroom to retch.

House voice called after her.

"What's the story?"

Chloe returned to the lounge after rinsing her mouth.

"Wilson has sent an ambulance."

"What?" Despite the illness, House was clearly livid. "I've got a stomach virus from your stupid workmate's kid! I don't need paramedics."

"They think it's got something to do with your patient from yesterday."

She could see as the metaphorical wheels turned inside House's head, obviously working a little more slowly than normal.

"This is not meningitis," he said angrily after a moment. "And there's no way I could have caught it from that fat man anyway."

"Wilson said it's just a precaution. Especially because we're both sick." Chloe knew it was manipulative, but perhaps if she made him think about her health, he'd calm down.

"You don't have meningitis either," he said, still angry, but his voice had lowered a tone. "It's completely plausible that we both have a stomach virus; the chances that we'd both have meningitis are infinitesimal."

"I know, I know." She glanced meaningfully at the ice pack on his leg. "At least you might get some morphine in the hospital," she said, cajolingly.

"Hmmm." House considered. They probably wouldn't give him morphine, but they'd at least give him something. That might be worth the trip.

But there was no way he was going to arrive in an ambulance.


	3. Chapter 3

Note: Some naughty words in this chapter. But then House is sick, so what do you expect? I'm sure you've heard them before. :)

* * *

--

As expected, when the paramedics arrived House continued to protest vociferously. He'd been trying to talk Chloe into cancelling the ambulance and driving them in, while Chloe had tried to explain why she couldn't without specifically mentioning that there was obviously no way he could walk to the car.

Chloe hated it when he spoke to her like this, with a dismissive, uncaring tone that easily turned vicious when it combined with the venomous words he seemed to have ready at the tip of his tongue. She particularly hated it when he made her feel stupid – as he was doing now – trying to convince her that knew everything about everything. There had been times when he'd spoken to her like this that she'd honestly wondered why she hung around. She'd walked out on him one night and that had seemed to teach him a lesson – he'd kept himself in better check after that. The only problem was that he was so often – _so infuriatingly often_ – right.

This time, though, she knew she had to forgive him and she continued her cajoling words, biting back the instincts to argue or cry, both of which were warring in her for supremacy.

As he was moved onto the stretcher, she watched as he tried to fight, disturbed at seeing that he was too weak to actually fend them off effectively.

The paramedics made both House and Chloe wear surgical masks, which made Chloe feel like Typhoid Mary, although rationally she knew it was only fair for them to protect themselves from possible infection.

One of House's fellows, the one she liked the most, Dr Taub, was waiting for them at the ER. He smiled gently at her, explained that Wilson had asked him to meet them, and led the way into a treatment cubicle, showing Chloe to a chair as the paramedics lifted House onto the bed.

Chloe's own nausea was lost in the helplessness she felt at watching how sick House was. He could barely raise an arm to fight off the nurses intent on attaching monitoring equipment.

"I do not have meningitis!" he yelled. The surgical mask over his mouth did nothing to muffle his angry tones.

For House, uncomfortable memories of his other visits to the ER flooded his mind. Being shot, the infarction. He hated it, hated showing human frailty, hated his body for letting him down in this way. Absolutely _despised_ the caring and concerned looks of those around him.

"Do you have a headache?" Taub asked calmly, pressing his hands gently around House's head and neck, looking for tenderness.

"Yes I have a goddamn headache!" House yelled. "But I'm dehydrated and I've just been dragged in here against my will. You'd have a friggin' headache too!" House tried to swipe Taub's probing hands away and was a little shocked to discover he didn't have the strength. The yelling was sapping what little energy he had left.

"No stiff neck, see?" House said, his voice at a more reasonable level, moving his head around in demonstration. "It's just some kid's stomach flu and my leg hurts because I can't take any fucking Vicodin."

Chloe could hear the change in House's voice, the cold, dark anger that she knew from experience could be terrifying in its intensity. She got up out of the chair to stand next to him on the bed.

"Greg," she lay a hand on his shoulder. "You're obviously sick. Please, let them look after you."

"Yeah? And when exactly did you get your medical degree?" he snapped back at her.

Chloe's eyes pricked with tears, but she was determined not to let anyone see that his barb had hurt, especially not House.

"Fine. Go ahead and die. See if I give a shit," she said, as breezily as she could manage, meeting his eyes and staring him down.

House met her gaze at first and then looked away. _I don't have to be here_, her eyes told him. And House knew she had him with that look. No one else in his life, except maybe his mother, could provoke such strong feelings of shame, guilt, and maybe even love, with just their eyes.

Taub stepped back, sensing the intensity of the look passing between House and Chloe and not wanting to get caught in the middle. He'd thought House wasn't about to back down, but Taub watched as the fight seemed to go out of him and he let Taub continue his examination. Taub was silently impressed.

After a few more moments checking House over, Taub spoke.

"House, you're right, it might not be meningitis. But how about we give you some Vancomycin and Prednisone just in case? Then, when we get the test results back, if it's not, it doesn't matter, and it will probably help the stomach flu anyway. We can also get you rehydrated and give you some Demerol and Compazine for the pain and nausea."

House thought about the suggested IV pain relief. Finally someone was talking sense.

"Fine." House spat, still obviously unhappy with the entire situation.

A blonde woman approached Chloe as she took her seat again, relieved now that House had agreed to treatment. She realised it was Dr Allison Cameron, one of House's former fellows. They'd been introduced at some hospital function and for no apparent reason, Chloe had taken an immediate dislike to her.

"Hi Chloe."

Cameron smiled, almost a little nervously, thought Chloe.

"Hi Dr Cameron." She deliberately chose not to use the other woman's first name, even though that was how they'd been introduced. But if she was insulted by it, Cameron didn't let it show.

"Why don't you come with me and we'll get you looked at too."

Chloe glanced over at House, not sure whether to leave.

House looked at her and nodded, indicating she should go. He was positive he didn't have meningitis, but if there was even the vaguest chance he did, and he'd passed it on to Chloe…

_Christ I make that woman put up with a lot_, he thought guiltily. He let out a breath as he watched her follow Cameron out of the room.

A nurse accompanied Cameron and Chloe into the ER cubicle and she helped Chloe up onto the bed.

"Are you feeling okay?" Cameron asked, her tone appropriately concerned.

"I'm much better than he is," Chloe said, trying to be cooperative. "But if I throw up on you, don't take it personally."

"Um…okay, just a couple of questions then." Cameron said hesitantly.

Chloe could clearly see the blush rising to the doctor's face.

"Since yesterday, have you and Dr House…well…kissed? Or been…um…intimate?"

"What? Why?" Chloe couldn't help but ask, genuinely confused as to why that would be important.

"It's just that…this type of meningitis is normally transmitted by saliva and body fluids, so if you haven't, then…" she trailed off, deliberately looking everywhere but at Chloe's face.

Chloe sighed. This was not how she'd thought her day would turn out.

"Then yes, we have. Both kissed _and_ been 'intimate'." A thought struck her. "But if that's how it's transmitted, how did Greg get it?"

"If someone infected is coughing and you're close to them, that can be enough," Cameron explained. "That's why the paramedics put those masks on you. So what symptoms have you had?"

"I've just been nauseous and vomiting," Chloe said dismissively, not worried about herself. She didn't feel seriously ill and that was something she knew about. And if you could get it from someone coughing, then why had Cameron needed to ask about her sex life? Chloe knew there was a reason she hadn't liked her.

But there was something else niggling at her, something that wasn't right about all this…and then she realised.

"Hang on – I was sick first. That's what I don't get. How could I get something from Greg if I got sick before he did?"

"Well…" Cameron seemed to consider. "Look he might be right, this might just be a gastro thing that he picked up from you, and you could both be fine. But it's easy for us to start you on the treatment and then get you tested. If it turns out not to be meningitis then the treatment is not harmful so you'll be fine either way."

Cameron leaned a little closer and looked Chloe in the eyes for the first time.

"But if it _is_ meningitis then we need to start treatment urgently because it can be very dangerous. House's patient _died_," she said with emphasis.

Chloe shrugged and nodded. If Cameron's intention had been to frighten her into acquiescence then it had worked like a charm and questions about possible alternative causes of her illness vanished.

She laid back and watched while Cameron and the nurse inserted an IV and took blood samples.

"We have to give you these antibiotics through an IV," Cameron explained. "And I'm also giving you something for the nausea. We'll get these bloods off to the lab and get back to you with the results as soon as we can, so just sit back and relax for now."

"Can I use my mobile in here?" Chloe asked.

"You shouldn't. Can I make a call for you?"

"I just need to call work and tell them I won't be coming back this afternoon."

"You went into work this morning?" Cameron asked.

Chloe snorted. "No, I always wear a suit and heels when I'm at home having a sick day," she said, gesturing at her obviously corporate outfit, only marred by the surgical mask she still wore. She wondered how much influence living with House had had over her as she heard the sarcastic words leaving her mouth.

"Just wait here." Cameron turned on her heel and fled from the room and Chloe rolled her eyes. _Where else was she going to go?_ And then she laughed at herself, realising what a Greg House type of thought that was.

Cameron returned just a few minutes later with Lisa Cuddy on her heels. There had been a time when Chloe thought she and Lisa might have been good friends. And perhaps they would have been – in another world that didn't include Greg House. Lisa Cuddy was Greg's boss. That meant Chloe felt uncomfortable discussing any of the personal elements of her relationship with Lisa in case it had repercussions for House at work. And there were obviously things about her own personal life that Lisa felt uncomfortable sharing with Chloe, thinking that they'd probably get repeated to House. So with such large topics off limits in conversation, it didn't take long for them to run out of things to talk about and their initial attempts at social interaction had petered out gradually. But despite all that, she was still fond of the other woman.

"Hi Chloe," Cuddy bustled into the room with her usual efficiency.

"Hi Lisa, how are you?" Chloe saw Cameron blink a little at the two women's familiarity with each other.

"Better than you, by the looks," Cuddy laughed, but then a frown crossed her face and she sat down on the edge of the bed.

"You're being given prophylactic treatment for bacterial meningitis," she said, and Chloe nodded. "And Cameron tells me you went into work this morning. Did you drive or catch the bus?"

"I drove," Chloe said, seeing where the line of questioning was heading. "I drove, parked my car and went into my office. I worked by myself for most of the morning, then had one meeting with my assistant Maggie. Then I got back in the car and drove home again at lunchtime to check on Greg. I didn't kiss anyone or cough on anyone, but I did throw up in the bathroom. Oh God, you don't think I've taken the infection into my office, do you?"

"It's highly unlikely," Cuddy said calmly. "And given that you had such low exposure to other people, I don't think we'll start a panic just yet." She turned to Cameron. "Lets wait until the results come in. Page me as soon as they're available and we'll decide our next steps from there."

"Shouldn't we tell Maggie at least? She has two little kids," Chloe said, pleadingly.

Cuddy nodded.

"Get the number from Chloe and give her a call," she instructed Cameron.


	4. Chapter 4

Wilson popped his head around the curtain and watched as House critiqued the nurse's IV placement.

"I've seen better IVs by med students," he complained, but his voice didn't have its usual sharp power. Wilson was immediately concerned.

"Dare you to do better yourself," he commented as he walked in, knowing it had been years since House had done such a menial procedure.

House just grumbled under his breath in response.

"Stop hassling the nursing staff or they'll take away those pain meds," Wilson warned.

House looked indignant.

"It's not like I asked for this. You and Chloe ganged up on me…"

"Yeah, because you were completely well enough to make your own way here."

"I do not have meningitis! How many times do I have to say that before someone believes me?"

The ER doctor walked back in.

"Where's Taub?" House demanded.

"He's gone to put a rush on your tests," the ER doctor replied. "How are those pain meds?"

"I need more," House said.

"House," Wilson said warningly.

"No, I need more. Seriously. I haven't had any Vicodin since last night and my leg is killing me."

Without waiting to ask for permission, the ER doctor pulled the blanket away and took a look at House's scarred thigh.

"Is this normal?" he asked.

House looked down at his most disliked body part. It was red, inflamed, a little swollen. He reached out gently with one hand, finding it hot to touch. A frown crossed his face. How could this have happened? He didn't remembering banging it on anything and he hadn't even been that active during sex with Chloe the night before.

"Uh, it looks…different," he said, reluctantly.

"Right. Let's just get an x-ray to be on the safe side." The ER doctor scribbled notes on the file. "And I'll up your pain meds."

Wilson could see House about to object to the x-ray.

"House, just let them do the x-ray. It won't hurt."

House shot Wilson a murderous look, but didn't say anything further until the ER doctor left.

"Go find out how Chloe is," House said.

"Okay."

"It's not meningitis, but she is sick. Make sure she's okay."

Wilson nodded. "I'll be back."

House lay back in the bed, still shivering and nauseous. He didn't want to think too hard about what might be the problem with his leg. His eyes drifted closed. _So tired._

* * *

--

Wilson appeared in Chloe's cubicle just as she was starting to fall asleep. She had been frustrated at being kept in the ER and nervous about how House was doing, but exhaustion had crept up on her.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Fine," Chloe answered, shaking off the light doze she'd fallen into. "How's Greg?"

"He's doing better. They're getting his leg x-rayed." Wilson was more concerned than he let on, he didn't want to worry Chloe overly when they still weren't sure what was happening. But he hadn't seen House look that sick for a long time.

"Why?" Chloe asked.

"The scar area just looks a little inflamed."

"His leg has been a bit worse recently," Chloe admitted.

"Yeah, I thought that too," Wilson agreed.

"But otherwise?"

"Otherwise he has stopped vomiting, is demanding more pain relief and is generally being a pain in the ass."

"I'm sure." They shared a smile.

"Hey," Chloe said, quietly. "Thanks for calling back this afternoon and for organising the ambulance."

"You're welcome," Wilson said, surprised. He felt he hadn't done anything out of the ordinary. "I just went in to tell House's team that he wouldn't be in and mentioned he was sick with a fever. They were the ones that mentioned his patient and were concerned it could be related."

"Oh," Chloe said, hitting her forehead with her hand. "I was supposed to call in for him and let Lisa know he was sick. I forgot."

"Well, it's probably just as well you did, because if I hadn't gone in and mentioned the fever they might not have made the connection."

Chloe nodded, but wondered if the reverse was true – maybe they would have made the connection a few hours earlier instead. She chastised herself for getting so caught up in her work that she forgot a simple phone call.

"How are you really?" Wilson asked. "I have to ask and come back with the real answer or House is going to slash my car tyres."

Chloe took a deep breath and smiled weakly at the joke, knowing it was entirely possible that was exactly what House had said. "I'm fine, honestly. Just tired and sick and worried. You know, the usual."

Cameron walked in with a broad smile.

"It's not meningitis. We just got the results through and you've both got the all clear."

"Phew," Chloe sighed and pulled off the uncomfortable surgical mask. "Can I take him home now and we can both get some sleep?"

Cameron's smile faltered.

"I don't think House is going to be discharged just yet."

"Why?" Wilson asked, rising from the chair next to Chloe's bed.

"It's not meningitis, but something's raised his white count. They want to admit him for observation."

"Was there anything on the x-ray?" Wilson asked.

"I don't know. Not sure if they have it yet."

Chloe sat up in the bed, holding onto the IV tube going into her arm.

"Can I go see him now? Can you take this out?"

"I guess so, but you have to promise me to keep up your fluids," Cameron said. "You were very dehydrated."

Chloe nodded, anxious to get out of there.

"Wilson, go see how he is and I'll join you as soon as I can," Chloe urged.

"Sure." Wilson headed out of the small room.

By the time Cameron had a nurse come to help her remove the IV – _why did it take two of them?_ Chloe thought impatiently – Wilson had returned.

"Don't rush. He's being admitted and moved to a room, so we'll go find him as soon as he's settled. It's better to wait a bit."

Chloe could quite imagine why. She'd promised him that this would be a quick trip to get checked up and get some pain meds – now he was being admitted. She was so glad she made the call to Wilson, but House was going to be extremely pissed off at this turn of events. It was better to give him a little while to calm down.

"Let's go get a coffee and they'll page me as soon as he's settled," Wilson suggested.

* * *

--

Chloe and Wilson had gone to sit for a while in Wilson's office; Chloe sipping slowly at the cup of herbal tea he'd brought for her. When Wilson's pager went off, he rose and gave Chloe a quick hand up from the sofa. They made their way to the third floor, Chloe trying hard to put on her happy, cheerful face. She was frightened, not just at how sick House had looked in the ER, but at the rush of her own feelings in response.

It had taken her so long – too long – to decide he was what she wanted, but now that she had, she had no idea what she'd do without him. And the idea of him being ill enough to require nursing him back to health frankly scared her. House didn't respond well to being looked after. Like all men in her experience, he got pathetic when he was sick. But unlike other men, he resented being cared for, being waited on beyond the provision of food and blankets. She shivered at the thought of having to look after him at home if this was serious.

House was dozing when they walked in, but he quickly stirred when Wilson laid a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm holding you personally responsible for this," he said to Wilson, who just shrugged, as if that was exactly what he expected.

House turned to Chloe.

"Are you okay?" he said gruffly, trying to hide the deep concern behind the question. He was still feeling guilty for snapping at her in the ER.

"I'm fine. How are you feeling?"

"Pretty crappy," House said honestly. He was still shivery and nauseous, despite the meds. And the pain in his leg was ramping up a notch instead of declining the way it should do in response to the medication.

Taub walked in then with a large manila envelope obviously containing x-rays. Chloe sat down in the chair next to House's bed, reaching over to hold his hand. His face was pale and his hand clammy to hold. He looked very ill.

"Guess what?" Taub announced, his voice loud and confident. "We had a raffle and I won. Or lost. I'm not sure which. Anyway, I get to be your treating doctor. Now are you going to listen to me or do I have to put you in restraints?"

House gave Taub a long, condescending look.

"Nice try. Tell Foreman the intimidation tactics should have been saved for much later. Now you don't have that card up your sleeve any more."

Taub seemed to cringe a little as House's words hit home.

"What did the x-rays show?" Wilson asked, trying to pull focus.

"They were inconclusive," Taub said, holding them up towards the windows for both the other doctors to look at. "But something's got your white count skyrocketing, so we're putting you on broad spectrum antibiotics until we see what comes out of the cultures. We'll give you something for the fever and I can also get you a bit more Demerol for the pain. We need to do some more tests."

"Like what, exactly?" House demanded.

"Given your history, I'm concerned about clots, so I think a CT and an angio to start off with…" Taub began.

House shook off Chloe's hand and tried to sit up.

"Just give me the antibiotics and get me out of here," he said. Memories of the infarction came flooding back, the pain, the innumerable losses it had created in his life. It wouldn't – _couldn't_ – happen again. Not when things were just settling down, when life was just starting to feel comfortable again.

The three others in the room watched as he struggled to sit up, finally falling back into the pillows as he realised the extent of his own weakness.

"How about just letting them do the CT, House?" Wilson suggested softly. "Then you can check those results and work out if anything else might be needed."

Taub nodded in agreement.

Finally House sighed. He looked over at Chloe.

"See what I have to put up with?"

Chloe smiled at him, trying to look understanding while silently believing that it was probably much more the case of what Wilson and Taub had to put up with than the other way around.

"Okay, I'll organise the CT and I'll get someone in here to fix you up with more pain meds," Taub said. "I'll be back after the scan."

Chloe sat back in the chair, feeling just as anxious as she had when she'd first entered the room. She was used to be in control at work; used to being the one who knew what was going on. But here, all the "doctor speak" had gone over her head and she had no idea what was happening.

"So what does that all mean?" she asked irritably, looking at both House and Wilson.

"Not much," House said dismissively.

Wilson shrugged in agreement. "Unfortunately, he's right. There's something raising his white count, probably some kind of infection. But the x-ray didn't show anything wrong with the leg. Given that House has had a clot before that caused the original infarction, Taub wants to do tests to rule out that as a possibility. So, basically we don't know anything more until we get more tests done."

Chloe smiled at Wilson in thanks for the translation. She took House's hand again and squeezed it gently as she saw him swallow hard as Wilson talked about the infarction.

The three of them fell silent for a moment and Chloe sat back in the chair, still feeling shaky herself. She closed her eyes to rest as a vague sense of nausea reappeared suddenly.

A nurse came in and started to make the adjustments to House's IV.

"Wilson, take Chloe home. She's still sick and needs some sleep." House said, looking at her pale face.

Chloe's eyes flew open and she sat up straighter.

"No. I'm staying, at least until you get the test results."

House saw the steely determination in her eyes. He'd been up against that before and knew he didn't have the energy to fight it this time.

"Fine," he said with a sigh. "But go lie down on the sofa in my office. Wilson can come get you when the results are back. That type of chair…" he gestured to the standard-issue hospital room seat, "…sucks to sleep in. Trust me."

Chloe thought about it for a moment, then nodded. She could use a lie down, even just for a little while. She'd started the day sick and tired, and it hadn't exactly been restful since then.

"Okay. Don't run away while I'm gone, will you?" she smiled at him and pulled his hand closer, pressing a kiss to his knuckles.

House lightly rubbed the back of his hand down her cheek and Chloe saw the flicker of worry in his eyes. That was when the knot of fear in her stomach twisted and became solid. She swallowed hard and tried not to let him see her panic. _If he was worried, then there was definitely reason to be scared. _

She turned away from him and looked up to Wilson.

"Right, let's go then."

She rose quickly and had only taken a step when the room swayed around her, her stomach dropping and the light dimming. She thought to ask who turned the lights out but couldn't get the words from her brain to her mouth.

She vaguely heard House's words, "Wilson, catch her!" as she fell.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** Hi everyone, this is a short-ish chapter but it made sense to break the story here. I will have the next installment up pretty quickly. Thanks for your lovely comments - I love hearing what you think and would be interested to hear your thoughts on this twist of the story... (hint, hint)

* * *

--

Chloe came to, feeling the cool vinyl of the hospital floor against her cheek. It was soothing and smooth and much easier to focus on than the babble of voices above her. Then she couldn't ignore the uncomfortable sensation of a blood-pressure cuff being inflated around her arm.

"It's pretty low," someone said.

Chloe blinked.

"She's coming around."

She looked up to see Wilson, Taub and a nurse surrounding her. Her first thought was, _how embarrassing_.

"I'm fine," she said, trying to sit up.

"Uh, uh, uh." Three pairs of hands reached out to keep her on the floor.

"I just stood up too fast," Chloe protested.

"That's probably true, but we need to be on the safe side," Wilson said.

"Do you know if she's eaten anything today?" Taub asked House.

"No, _she_ hasn't," Chloe answered, irritated. She was conscious and could answer his questions directly. "_She_ has a stomach virus."

Taub took the hint.

"You've probably just fainted, but we need to check you out okay?" he said to her directly.

A second nurse wheeled a wheelchair into the room. Wilson and Taub put hands under each of her arms to hoist Chloe into the wheelchair.

"Oh this is ridiculous," she said gruffly, covering her embarrassment.

"Now you know how I feel," House called from the bed.

Chloe looked over at him. In a strange way she felt sorry that she'd pulled attention away from him. He was obviously much sicker than she was.

"Take her down to the ER and I'll be down in a minute," Taub instructed the nurse.

"The ER again?" Chloe asked.

"It's the easiest way to check you out and admit you if we need to."

"I'm still coming back to hear those test results," she called out to House as the nurse wheeled her away.

Taub turned to face House and Wilson.

"I got her before her head hit the floor, so you don't have to worry about concussion," Wilson said.

"Given her low BP, the fact that she's been vomiting and hasn't eaten today, I'm sure it's just a faint," Taub said.

House bristled. Taub was handling things just as House would have instructed with any other patient. Occam's Razor. Look for the simplest answer first. But somehow that wasn't good enough. Not this time.

"You need to run a full set of bloods," House demanded.

"Of course," Taub answered.

"Look for all the usual and unusual viruses."

"I will. But it's probably nothing."

"Like mine's probably nothing," House countered, knowing it wasn't true.

"House, you've definitely got some kind of infection," Taub argued. "We just don't know which one."

"What is the likelihood of two people in close contact developing the same symptoms with different causes?" House asked, a lecturing tone in his voice.

"Chloe doesn't have a fever," Taub pointed out.

Wilson listened to the argument, but he had to agree with House. In Wilson's experience, if House thought it might be serious then they should listen.

"Should we be thinking about isolation, House?" Wilson asked. "Do you think this is contagious?"

House sighed. He usually had a feeling for these things, but this time his gut had deserted him. _You probably left it down the s-bend back home, _he reminded himself sarcastically.

"I don't know," he admitted, uncharacteristically subdued. "Can you get me another blanket? I'm cold."

* * *

--

In the ER, Chloe had had yet more vials of blood taken from her and was given another IV, this time with glucose and electrolytes. She felt fine, even her nausea had abated, and she just wanted to get back to House, to find out how he was. She was bored and frustrated at being tied to the ER bed.

It was over an hour before Taub walked back in with a frown on his face.

"How's Greg?" Chloe asked, immediately.

"No change – he's been asleep," Taub said. "He's just gone in for the CT scan, so hopefully we'll have some results from that soon."

Chloe nodded and released the breath she hadn't even been aware she'd been holding. At least he wasn't worse.

"Now about you, we've got your results back and everything looks fine."

"At last," Chloe said impatiently. "Can you let me out of here then?"

"No, hang on a second. Everything was fine except for one thing. Your pregnancy test came back positive."

Chloe's mind folded in on itself. She listened to his words repeat themselves over in her head.

_Positive. Pregnancy._

The words echoed around her mind as if bounced against walls of a canyon.

_This is what it feels like to go mad_, she thought.

"Why did you do a pregnancy test?" she asked, amazed that she was able to speak, let alone sound calm and rational.

"I tested for everything," Taub admitted. "You're my boss's girlfriend. No way I'm missing anything." He smiled, proud of himself.

"Only thing is," he paused. "You were given Compazine for the nausea when you came in. That can sometimes give a false positive for pregnancy, so we need to do another test in twelve hours or so when your system is clear of it. But if it's accurate, it would explain a lot of things – your nausea, tiredness, fainting. And it means that yours and House's illnesses aren't related."

Chloe looked up at him and Taub reeled back a little from the haunted look in her eyes.

"Do you know anything about my medical history?" Chloe asked quietly.

"Not really," Taub answered slowly, suddenly realising that he should. Why hadn't he done a history? He'd been so concerned about testing for all the things that House would quiz him on later that he'd completely forgotten. He mentally kicked himself.

"Actually, we should probably cover that. You had an ovarian cancer scare last year, right?" Taub had a vague recollection of something along those lines. He took out a pen and turned to a fresh page in his notebook.

"Can I see Dr Wright?" Chloe asked hollowly.

"Ah," Taub paused. This wasn't what he'd anticipated. He'd prepared for two extremes of reaction from Chloe, joy at an unexpected pregnancy or despair for exactly the same reason. This blank coldness was not at all what he'd expected.

"Sorry, Wright retired. About three months ago."

"Oh." Chloe fought to stay thinking clearly. _Hold on to the fact that you need to see a doctor who knows what they're doing_, she told herself. She knew that Greg would only hire the best doctors, and that Taub must be good, but right then she felt no confidence in him whatsoever. Now Wright wasn't available. Wilson? It wasn't his area. Greg? Unlike last time when she'd been sick, too confused about her feelings for him to accept him as a medical advisor, now she knew, she wanted his help; wanted his cool professionalism.

"Can you get Greg for me?" she asked weakly.

"Well, he's probably in CT right now…" Taub said.

_Greg's sick_, Chloe chastised herself. _Stop thinking about yourself for a moment._

"No, don't tell him," she said, changing her mind. He needed to focus on getting well, and this was something that could wait.

"I can get you the doctor who's taken over from Wright?" Taub offered.

"Yes, please." Chloe rubbed her arms, suddenly feeling chilled.

"Are you cold?"

"Yes," Chloe answered. She looked up at Taub, trying out House's scary intimidation eyes. "Go get that doctor."

Taub shivered a little. This woman and House were obviously meant to be: she was just as freaky as he was. Taub reached over to the wall phone and had Dr Edwards paged.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: **Thanks everyone for the feedback. I know you're all keen to get back to House and see how he's doing - I promise we will right after this. We just have to get Chloe sorted first...

* * *

--

Dr Tracey Edwards sat down on the end of Chloe's bed with a thickish folder in her hand. She'd had her assistant pull Chloe's file when she got the page to the ER and was now skimming it for a quick catch up.

"Wow, you've pretty much had everything they can throw at you, haven't you?" she said, meeting Chloe's eyes and giving her a sympathetic smile. She once again sent a silent thanks to Dr Wright for his excellent note-taking which even in this case included a warning about Chloe's partner, a Dr House at the hospital. Tracey thought about it – she'd only been at Princeton for three months, but she was sure she'd heard some gossip about a Dr House.

Taub frowned at Dr Edwards comments. He'd obviously missed something big by not taking a history and he only hoped House would never find out about it.

"So Dr Taub, fill me in on where we're at today?" Dr Edwards turned and smiled openly at him.

Taub couldn't help thinking about how attractive and friendly this new doctor was. Then he banished such thoughts from his mind and tried to focus on the present. On the need for him to keep his job.

"Chloe has been brought in today with vomiting and nausea. She's had prophylactic treatment for bacterial meningitis because her partner, Dr House, was exposed to it yesterday and they've both been sick since. The meningitis tests came up clean, but House is still feverish and nauseous. Chloe's been feeling tired but better, but then she fainted about an hour ago. All her bloods have come back clean, but she's registered a positive pregnancy test. She was given Compazine for the nausea when she was first admitted, so there's a chance of a false positive."

"Gee, I bet that's just what you needed to hear, Chloe." Edwards turned back to her patient and gave her another encouraging smile.

Taub's spirits sank even lower. Obviously not only had he missed something diagnostically relevant, he'd also put his foot in it somehow.

"You could say that," Chloe said dryly. The whole idea still hadn't penetrated. She hadn't let it – wasn't going to. Not yet.

"I guess you thought there was very little chance of this ever happening?"

Chloe thought about it, watching as the doctor stood up from her spot at the bottom of the bed, moving over Chloe to press her hands gently around Chloe's abdomen.

"None," Chloe answered. _Chance?_ She and House hadn't even bothered with contraception since her last surgery, so certain were they both that this could never happen.

The doctor kept talking in calm, soothing tones and it wasn't until Chloe noticed her waiting for a response that she realised she hadn't really been listening.

"Sorry, what?"

"I asked if you knew when your last period was."

"I have no idea," Chloe answered truthfully. "Pass me my purse."

Dr Edwards reached over to the chair and grabbed Chloe's bag, handing it over to her. Chloe rummaged around and pulled out her diary, a tiny book that held her life together. She flicked through a few pages.

"It was…" she flicked back again not finding the usual obscure symbol she used on any recent pages. "I'm not really sure. Maybe the start of last month. No, wait. The month before."

"So at least eight weeks ago."

"Yes."

"And that's normal for you?"

"Nothing's normal for me. Not for the last couple of years."

Dr Edwards nodded. "Okay. Well, can you lift up your top and undo your trousers? The easiest and fastest way for us to get an answer on what's going on here is to do an ultrasound."

Chloe nodded and shrugged off her suit jacket, lying back and lifting up the tank top knit she was wearing underneath and popping the button and undoing the zip of her pants.

Dr Edwards prepared the ultrasound probe and squirted some conductor gel onto Chloe's abdomen.

"You understand Chloe that if you _are_ pregnant there's a high chance of another ectopic? Especially given your second lot of surgery?" Edwards asked gently.

Taub, standing in the background, sucked in a breath. _Oh shit. _Another_ ectopic? That was a big thing to miss_.

Chloe just nodded and held a breath. This wasn't supposed to happen. This wasn't how it should be if it _did_ happen. She didn't want Greg to be in a hospital room while this was going on._ What if… _

Chloe watched Dr Edwards face closely, looking for answers. She couldn't see anything except concentration and calm.

Finally, after what felt like years, Edwards turned to her. And smiled.

"Look at this."

She turned the monitor to face Chloe.

It looked just like all those grainy black and white photos her excited girlfriends had made her look at years before. It was a blob. But it was a baby. And it looked perfect.

Chloe's breath caught.

"Is it…?" was all she managed to say.

"It all looks okay," Edwards said. "For now," she added warningly. "I guess from the baby's size you're around eight weeks'."

Chloe was shocked. "But I haven't felt anything. I've been a little tired and sick but…"

"Every pregnancy is different," Edwards said reassuringly. "And with your history it's no surprise that you could go this long without thinking anything was wrong. But I'd say your nausea and tiredness and fainting are all related."

Chloe fell silent, trying to comprehend what was happening. The exact thing that she'd been training herself to never to expect had just occurred.

Then she heard Greg's voice in her mind. _Just as well we won't have any of those little buggers running around. _

"What if I…" she started hesitantly.

Edwards read her mind and looked as if it was the most natural question in the world.

"If you decided you didn't want to proceed with the pregnancy you'd have to make that decision pretty quickly. We can discuss your options at an appointment."

She gave Chloe a serious look.

"Chloe, I don't need to tell you that with your history, and at your age, this is what we would classify as a high-risk pregnancy. There's still a very high chance you could miscarry, so I want you to be prepared for that."

Chloe nodded, still trying to absorb the information.

"In fact, if you decide you want to keep this baby, I'd like to see you resting – avoid stress, avoid too much physical exertion. I don't think complete bed rest is necessary, but you need to treat yourself as being very fragile right now, okay?"

Chloe thought about her recent weeks of factory tours, surrounded by dyes, chemicals and fumes. Working late. Walking in heels for hours. Collapsing on the sofa with a glass of wine or a whisky each night at home. Maybe she'd already done enough damage. Or maybe it was a sign – after all, it had survived all that…

Edwards' voice broke into her thoughts.

"I don't think any of the medications you've been given today should pose a problem. But don't take anything else without giving due consideration, all right? In the meantime we'll get you started on some pregnancy vitamins, hook you up with a schedule of prenatal appointments and possibly do a few more tests. Given your age it might be a good idea to do an amniocentesis to check for birth defects. But we can discuss that later. I'll have my receptionist give you a call to book you in for tomorrow."

She handed Chloe some tissues to remove the gel from her stomach and then made some notes in the file.

"I'll leave you with Dr Taub here, but from what I've seen you're right to go." She gave them both a dazzling smile and left the room.

Chloe stared at the space she'd been standing in until the silence hung over her.

Taub interrupted her thoughts with a polite cough.

"I guess I'll leave you alone for some thinking," he said.

Chloe just remembered he was in the room.

"Am I your patient?" she asked.

"Well, yes, although I'll probably hand you over to Dr Edwards now…" Taub said hesitantly.

"So doctor-patient confidentiality applies," Chloe pressed.

"Yes, yes it does," Taub admitted, hoping against hope she wasn't going to ask him to lie to his boss.

"Right." Chloe took a deep breath. "Greg's not to know about this. Not yet. We've got to work out what's wrong with him before we go bothering him with this stuff. Okay? Now, can I leave?"

Taub blew out a breath. This was really going to suck. Especially given that House could spot a lie from twenty paces and this was about his actual girlfriend…Taub hated to think how many ways from Sunday House could exact revenge. He uncharitably hoped that maybe House's own illness would be enough of a distraction to let him get away with this.

"Sure," he said, trying out his best reassuring smile. "But you can't go just yet. You need to go through that whole bag of fluids or else my boss will have my ass. And you wouldn't want that."

Chloe looked at him, feeling a vague sense of pity for what she'd asked of him. But it didn't stem her frustration at being separated from House while he was sick.

"Okay. Is there any way we can make this thing go faster?"


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: **Thanks everyone for your lovely feedback. I really do appreciate all your support! Re this chapter - I know House doesn't actually have a sofa in his office. But I wanted him to have one. And so, pfft, he does. The power of fan fiction.

And now back to House...**  
**

* * *

--

House lay in bed after returning from the CT, dwelling on the pain in his leg. He wasn't sure if the nausea was caused by whatever this bug was – if it _was_ a bug – or by his own anxiety about what was happening.

He could feel that the antibiotics were having some effect. He was better than he had been that morning. But that wasn't saying much.

House wondered how Chloe was doing in the ER. He marvelled at how much of their relationship seemed to unfold at the hospital. Of course, so far it had always been her that was sick. When he'd taken her to his place after she'd been discharged from hospital, he still hadn't been exactly sure why – just sure that doing that had made him feel better. Feel good, even. And then, somehow, the love had grown from that.

Perhaps it was knowing that she loved him – she'd admitted it to him almost by accident – that gave him a sense of security he might not otherwise have felt. Or maybe it had come through looking after her while she recovered – caring for her had given him the time to sort out his feelings. He'd had the position of power – she couldn't exactly leave while she was bed-ridden – so he'd been able to gradually get used to the idea that he could love and be loved again.

All of that had taken work and now he had too much to lose. If whatever was making him sick now caused another infarction, that meant more damage to his leg. And, depending on the severity, maybe this time he wouldn't keep it. Last time he was willing to bet his life for his leg, certain that he was right in his decision. This time? He wasn't nearly so sure.

He tried to work through what could be causing his illness, but his feverish, tired brain wouldn't cooperate.

He rested as comfortably as he could, unable to stop himself dozing off.

* * *

--

As soon as the IV fluids were finished, Chloe was released from the ER. She'd spent the time watching the drip, slowly leaking its fluids into her like an hourglass. The dull, repetitive motion had stopped her from thinking, enabled her to blank out any attempt to make sense or meaning out of what had just happened.

Once the nurse removed the IV and was satisfied Chloe was standing and solid on her feet, Chloe wasted no time in getting out of the ER. It was rapidly becoming her least favourite place in the world.

She headed for the elevators, intending to go straight up to House's room. But as she reached out to press the call button, she stopped.

She had no idea what to say to him. And it was all too fresh to go up and pretend nothing was happening.

Needing more time to think, she turned and walked outside, finding a seat on a bench near the bus stop.

* * *

--

Taub returned to House's room to find Wilson seated in the chair next to his bed, reading a journal. House was asleep, but seemed restless.

"How's he doing?" Taub asked Wilson.

"Only been here about ten minutes," Wilson answered, checking his watch. He'd gone back to his office to finalise his work for the day, then returned as soon as he could. It was now well into the evening. "He's been asleep."

Their voices woke House from his doze. As soon as he became more alert the sensations of pain in his leg were overwhelming. He fought the desire to vomit.

Taub noticed House rousing and turned to speak to him.

"No clots," he said.

House nodded. That was good news. He kept his focus on breathing in and out, and his nausea lessened a little. He belatedly realised just how worried about an infarction he had been.

"It doesn't look like a clotting problem. But there's some swelling that might be restricting blood flow, so we'll need to do more tests." Taub braced himself for a fight, knowing House wouldn't want to be kept in any longer. So he was surprised when all House did was nod.

"We'll get an orthopaedic specialist in to see you as well," he added.

"Probably a good idea," House said, his voice weak. Whatever was going on, he knew he didn't want a repeat of last time. Although he'd resisted treatment earlier, when he thought they were over-reacting to a stomach flu, now it looked like something to do with his leg, something serious. And last time he'd lost just about everything except his life because he wasn't diagnosed quickly enough. That could not happen again. Not when he had just got back to the point of having things to live for again. There was Chloe and there was…

"Where's Chloe?" House asked, suddenly remembering her faint, realising she wasn't there.

Taub looked around, surprised she wasn't in the room; knowing she would have been released from the ER a while ago. He figured she must be taking some time out, so he covered her absence as best he could.

"Last time I saw her, I told her she wasn't allowed to move until she'd been through the whole bag of fluids," he said. _It was the truth_, he thought.

"Good," House said. "And her tests?"

"There was nothing in her results to link your two cases," Taub answered. _Also true_.

"I never thought there would be," House said, irritated. "So what did they show?"

"There was nothing out of the ordinary in any of the tests." Taub started to feel like he was skating on thin ice, but he was finding it near impossible to blatantly lie to House's face. "Nothing to worry about." _Not sure if that was true._

"She probably did pick up a stomach bug from work," Wilson suggested. "It's just a coincidence that you were both sick at the same time."

"Yeah, I guess," House agreed, musing. Something about Taub's expression didn't sit right with him, but just then Chloe appeared at the door.

"Can I join the party?" she asked cheerfully.

House saw that she was still pale, but looked healthier with the fluids in her.

For her part, Chloe couldn't help the anxiety she felt looking at House. He looked worse than he had earlier, and she hadn't thought that possible. She walked over and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.

House looked up at her searchingly. Chloe had prepared for that, knew that if she didn't meet his eyes, didn't confidently return his gaze, he'd know instantly that something was up. She looked back at him steadily, in that moment, loving him desperately. He was obviously very sick and yet his focus was to her.

"You look pretty crappy," she said. She'd decided that the best way to play things was to keep the focus on him. _Where it should be anyway._

"So what's the story?" she looked over to Taub and Wilson.

"No clots, which is the great news," Wilson answered. "But more tests."

"Bet you're excited about that." Chloe gave House an encouraging smile.

"Thrilled," House said dryly. He coughed weakly, working hard not to give in to nausea that had again returned.

"Can we get the orthopod here tonight?" Wilson asked Taub.

"I don't know. I've got to find out who's on call and I'll be back. But first thing tomorrow, worst case." He left the room with a sigh of relief. House had no reason to ask him anything further about Chloe. Her news now had nothing to do with him – it was her secret to bear.

"Are you feeling better now?" Wilson asked Chloe, concerned.

"I'm fine. The tests were all negative." She kept her gaze on Wilson as she answered, finding it far easier to tell a blatant lie to him than to tell a half-truth to House.

She imagined she could feel House's ice-blue gaze boring through her, but when she looked back down at him, he had drifted into a doze.

"The pain killers make him sleepy," Wilson said quietly as they both moved away from the bed, giving House some peace.

"So what happens next?" Chloe asked.

"The orthopaedic consultant needs to come and check him out. They will hopefully be able to give us a better of idea of what's happening."

"Thanks, Wilson. I'm so grateful you're here for him. For us." She looked at him appreciatively. Wilson was House's friend first and she respected that, but she liked to think that she and Wilson had a friendship bond as well. If nothing else, they shared the same, sometimes traumatic, experience of being part of House's inner orbit.

"You're welcome of course." Wilson smiled at Chloe, knowing she was probably the only other person who shared his level of concern at this turn of events. He impulsively reached out and pulled her into a hug and was surprised when she returned it tightly, holding on to him like a life raft.

Feeling Wilson's arms around her was indescribably comforting and Chloe couldn't help herself when she held him back, her eyes screwed shut. She suddenly felt tears pressing against her eyelids and when she drew breath it was shaky, a sob barely held in. It had been such a huge day, Chloe didn't even know where to start in working out where the tears were sourced.

"Shhh, it's okay," Wilson murmured, gently rubbing her back, naturally assuming her emotion was concern at House's condition. "He's a tough old coot, you know."

Chloe nodded and tried to pull herself together.

"I know," she whispered back into Wilson's chest.

"Hey, what are you doing with my wife?" House's grumpy, gravelly voice interrupted them from across the room. "I'm not dead yet."

"Yeah, you're not dead and I'm not your wife," Chloe countered, pulling away from Wilson and mentally walling off the emotions threatening to flood her.

"Might as well be. I've washed your panties and seen you pluck that little bristly hair out of your chin."

If Chloe was embarrassed by House's comment in front of Wilson, she didn't show it. Besides, she thought, when she'd been recovering from surgery and House had looked after her, he'd had to do many far more intimate and embarrassing tasks for her than her laundry.

"Right. Well, you just get yourself down to Tiffany's and put some jewellery on the line, mister, and a wife you shall have."

"Yeah? Well I'm a little busy at the moment, but as soon as I get a free couple of hours, I'll pop in." The words were out of House's mouth before he'd really thought through their meaning.

House and Chloe glared; Wilson looked, astonished, from one to the other.

"Wait, was that a proposal that I just witnessed?" he asked, flabbergasted.

House snorted and smiled crookedly. He supposed it was something he would have got around to one day. Joint puking as a symbol of commitment probably only got you so far. And now was as good a time as any. Especially if things…he cut his thoughts off, not wanting to go down that track.

"I guess," he said. He turned to Chloe with a shrug.

Chloe shook her head with a wry smile. "You're so romantic."

She moved over to the bed next to him and brushed the hair from his forehead, leaning down to kiss him gently.

"Lets just focus on getting you better and then worry about everything else," she said.

"Love you," she whispered into his ear, knowing House wouldn't necessarily want Wilson to overhear her saying that. She wouldn't hold him to the marriage proposal, this wasn't really the time or place for it. Besides, with all the drugs he was on she thought he may not even remember it. But it gave her an extra sense of reassurance about the news she'd had that afternoon. Without consciously realising it, she rested a hand lightly on her belly, as if passing on the comfort to the life within her.

She turned back to Wilson once it became clear House was drifting off to sleep again.

"I'm going to wait until we find out if this consultant is coming tonight," Chloe whispered. "You don't have to stay. I can call you if you like."

"Okay. But remember what House said. Go have a rest in his office – the sofa there is much more comfortable than the chair in here." He gave a quick grin. "House sleeps on it regularly."

Chloe smiled back.

"I'll call you as soon as there's anything," Chloe said.

* * *

--

Chloe woke up feeling hazy and disoriented. Despite the discomfort that should have made it obvious, she belatedly became aware of the fact that she was sleeping on a sofa and she was in House's office. The memories of yesterday, House's illness, her own diagnosis, came back in a dizzying rush.

She quickly checked her mobile and was astonished to discover that it was late in the morning. She couldn't believe she had slept so long and was angry with herself for deserting House for the entire night. She'd promised to rest for an hour or so and then go back when the specialist came in. She had no missed calls. Taub had promised to contact her as soon as the orthopod was booked, so at least she hadn't missed that.

Rising, she rummaged through House's desk drawers until she found the emergency toiletries and clothes he kept there. Giving herself a quick squirt of deodorant and rubbing some toothpaste across her front teeth, she crouched down behind the desk to pull off her crumpled knit and replace it with his t-shirt. She was sure she looked ridiculous in a wrinkled black pants suit and a too-large, bright red Rolling Stones t-shirt, but it would have to do.

Her appointment with Dr Edwards was at eleven. She sat down heavily on the sofa to think for a moment.

Chloe told herself that ultimately she was a logical person. This situation just had to be dealt with logically. Get Greg well first. Then worry about the baby. And if she miscarried, then that just took one complication out of the picture.

It was better that he didn't know just yet; better to wait until they had his illness under control – he didn't need any distractions to keep him from focusing on getting well.


	8. Chapter 8

Chloe arrived in House's room. His eyes were closed and she guessed he was asleep. He seemed a little better than she'd seen him last night – she wondered if maybe the antibiotics were finally making a dint in the infection.

Moving quietly so as not to disturb him, she settled herself into the chair next to his bed. She didn't have a book or any other reading material, but there was more than enough going on in her mind to keep her occupied. She quickly became lost in her thoughts.

House's illness made him look older than his years, Chloe reflected. Generally, apart from the deep lines around his eyes, he was in pretty good shape for nearing fifty, even with the Vicodin and what Chloe had to admit was too much alcohol. Chloe prided herself on looking younger than her own forty-one years, but the thought made her start. If she had this baby, House would be nearing seventy when it graduated from college. She'd be in her sixties. _God, people would think they were its grandparents, not its mom and dad!_ Was it completely foolish to think about doing this at all? And what if he didn't recover fully? What if he was left permanently disabled or…even worse? The thought gave her chills.

House had been dozing, but hearing movement around him stirred him and he cracked open an eye. He saw Chloe sitting in the chair next to him, staring out the window. She looked tired, but it was more than that. She looked almost haunted, like someone who had been through too much already, but knew there was still more to go. He watched her shiver as if someone had walked over her grave.

"Hey," House's croaky voice brought her back to earth.

"Hey yourself." She turned to look at him with a weary smile.

"Cool t-shirt."

Chloe felt her heart swell, hoping that his ability to crack a joke meant he was doing better.

"Yeah, isn't it? I found it in a trash can in someone's office."

House snorted a laugh, but it became a cough.

"How are you feeling?" Chloe asked, reaching over to brush his hair back from his forehead, running her fingers through it to make it stand up a little in that mussed-up way he usually did it. The fever sweat had flattened it against his head and it didn't look right.

"A little better, I think," he answered. He hadn't slept well so they'd upped his pain killers and his leg wasn't bothering him as much as it had.

"I'm sorry I didn't come back and stay with you. I fell asleep and didn't wake up until just before," Chloe gave him a guilty look, feeling genuinely contrite. She remembered asking Cuddy about whether House had stayed with her when she'd been in a coma. She didn't miss the notes of amazement and pride in Cuddy's voice when she'd told her that for almost two days House had only left Chloe's side for a few hours to grab some sleep. It made Chloe feel even guiltier.

"That's okay, you needed to sleep," he said, smiling gently at her. "Besides, I organised some entertainment." He gestured to the bed next to him, where a laptop sat precariously close to the edge. Chloe rose to grab it and place it more safely on the cabinet next to the bed.

"How did you manage that?" she asked.

"Oh, I think it was the fourth phone call to Cuddy that did it." House said with a small grin. "Around two."

House had been irritable, in pain, and completely, absolutely wide-awake from midnight until they'd given him his next dose of pain meds around four. Now of course, he couldn't seem to stay conscious for more than a few minutes, but last night he'd been going out of his mind with boredom.

Not half an hour after his final annoyance call to Cuddy, demanding meds or entertainment or both, a grumpy IT technician had wandered in, dumping the laptop on House's bed. With a terse explanation that it had been set up with a wireless network connection and a warning that it was nothing to do with him if that interfered with the medical equipment surrounding House, he walked out again.

House had spent some time surfing the internet until he realised from the sites he was able to access that the technician had accidentally given him administrator rights. That meant he could search the entire hospital database and access anyone's personnel and medical records. There followed some delicious fun and he managed to leave his illness behind for a while as he discovered bits of information that would be invaluable for future blackmail. He'd also discovered a few things he didn't want to know – for example, that cute blonde nurse who'd changed his IV the day before was concealing something rather nasty in her underwear.

Then he'd thought to look up his fellows and while checking out Taub's record realised that his current list of patients didn't include Chloe. Digging further into the record he saw a note that she'd been transferred to a Dr Edwards – someone he didn't know.

House dug further.

And after that the fun had gone out of it. But he'd been left with plenty to think about.

He frowned at Chloe and looked about to speak until the sliding door to the room opened and Taub entered with another doctor.

"House, this is Dr Clayton, the orthopod," Taub introduced.

"Nice to meet you Dr House," Clayton said briskly, moving to take the chart from the edge of the bed and read through the notes.

"So the x-rays were clear and the CT didn't show any clots but there was some swelling restricting blood flow," he summarised, still reading through the notes.

House nodded. That was about the size of it. He'd actually been distracted enough to not be thinking about his leg, but now that the specialist was here, the fear and worry returned in force. He swallowed hard and hoped no one noticed.

Clayton listed a series of tests he wanted to do and House listened intently. He thought it was probably his imagination, but now that the focus was back on his leg he was starting to feel very sick again and the pain was returning. Especially at what this doctor was suggesting.

"So you're thinking compartment syndrome," House said.

Clayton nodded. House knew that it could cause permanent damage, but with any luck it had been caught early enough. He glanced over to Chloe who was standing back a little, watching the exchange between the doctors carefully.

"We can do the tests now," Clayton said. "Probably the sooner the better."

House nodded. He knew what was coming and wasn't sure whether he needed Chloe to see it. But before he had a chance to say anything, the curt but efficient Clayton had pulled the blanket off his right leg and proceeded to move it through a variety of positions.

Each one sent a new wave of pain through House and he was soon gasping for breath. He could feel the beads of sweat on his forehead. He didn't know when Chloe moved, only felt grateful when he felt her take his hand in hers and squeeze it hard, giving him some other sensation to focus on.

The tests seemed to go on and on, the positions Clayton wanted his leg twisted into growing more excruciating. House could only bite his lip and clutch at Chloe's hand, willing time to move more quickly.

"Sorry about that," Clayton said, not sounding sorry at all, as he finally placed House's leg back down on the bed. "Just one more thing and then I'll get you some pain meds."

Chloe watched as the doctor prepared a strange needle with a pressure gauge attached. She felt weak and shaky from watching House go through the pain of the previous test and from the looks of it, this one wasn't going to be any better. Knowing she had to stay strong for House, she squeezed his hand again and gave him a reassuring smile.

Clayton swabbed an area on House's thigh and inserted the needle, then quickly bent his leg at the knee. This time House couldn't help yelling out in agony and he grasped Chloe's hand painfully. He kept trying to focus on his gasping breath as the orthopod held his leg firmly in place. The pain was unbearable, bringing back sickening memories of the infarction.

Chloe felt as if House was breaking the small bones in her hand and it seemed as if the test dragged on for minutes. But finally Clayton straightened out House's leg and covered it with the blanket again.

"All done. I'll get you some morphine so you can sleep and I'll be back with the results as soon as I can."

Taub had left the room when the specialist had begun the tests. For some reason he didn't feel right witnessing his boss go through what he knew were going to be extremely painful tests. He returned as Clayton was leaving, with a fresh jug of water and a washcloth. He poured some water and handed the cloth to Chloe.

House was left feeling dazed by the pain. He took some sips of water from the cup held to his lips and could feel the wet coolness as Chloe wiped the cloth over his sweaty face. He could hear her murmuring something reassuring, but couldn't make sense of it. He saw Wilson come into the room and watched as a nurse did something with the IV. But none of it could penetrate the cloud of pain that surrounded his entire body. Finally, blissfully, he felt the cold, almost metallic presence of morphine in his bloodstream. Its icy fingers spread through him, removing the heat and the pain. He sank gratefully into its blankness.

Wilson stood back for a while, watching as Chloe tended to House. He conversed briefly with Taub, getting an update on what had just happened. Once House had fallen asleep, Chloe stepped back, looking lost.

Wilson strode over and took her into his arms, enveloping her in a hug. He could feel her trembling, noting that she just stood limply, not hugging back, but leaning into him as if unable to support herself. After a few moments, he pulled back and helped her into the chair.

"Chloe, I'm so sorry I wasn't here," he said. He poured her some water and handed her the cup to sip from.

Chloe seemed to come back into herself and smiled weakly at him. _James_, she thought. _What would I do without you?_

"It wasn't much fun," she said, her voice wavering as she tried to speak around the lump in her throat. Nothing had prepared her for seeing House like that. She had no idea the tests would be so painful. She knew his tolerance was far higher than most people's and so for something to cause him to yell in pain…she didn't want to think about it. She flexed her hand, feeling as if all the bones had been rubbed together in House's vice-like grasp and she wondered absently if anything could be broken.

"No, I don't imagine it was," Wilson answered dryly. "Those tests are extremely painful."

They sat together in silence for a while, watching House sleep. His breathing had taken a while to return to a slow, rhythmic pattern and eventually the taught lines of tension in his face relaxed. Chloe couldn't help but reach over and run a finger lightly over his cheek, so swamped by emotions that she didn't know where to begin separating the one from the other.

"What time is it?" she asked suddenly.

Wilson looked at her. "Almost eleven," he answered.

"Oh." Chloe slumped back into the chair, not feeling she had the energy to move; knowing she had to.

"How long do you think he'll sleep for?" she asked.

"Probably at least a couple of hours," Wilson answered.

Chloe nodded. "I might go. Get a shower," she lied. _Deal with this logically_, she reminded herself. _Go to the appointment. Find out if you're going to keep this baby before you worry anyone else._

"Do you want me to drive you?"

"No, would you stay with him? In case he wakes up when I'm not here?"

Wilson smiled. "Of course." He knew he'd be there anyway, regardless of Chloe's presence. He was genuinely fond of House's mate, but his years of friendship with House still counted for more.

* * *

--

Chloe stood under the shower at home, rinsing away the staleness of being in the more or less the same clothes for thirty-six hours. She let the water run over her head and through her hair, trying to rinse away the thoughts of what she'd just been through.

The appointment with Dr Edwards had taken longer than she'd thought. Despite what Chloe could see were copious notes from Dr Wright, Dr Edwards had taken her own extensive history and had given Chloe a long list of warnings and cautions about embarking on a pregnancy in her forties. She refused to give Chloe statistics on the likelihood of miscarriage, just told her that if she wanted to keep the baby she had to stay healthy, avoid stress and look after herself.

Then, at Chloe's request, she had gone through all the details involved in a termination. Chloe had to know. Just in case…

But even as Chloe had been sitting there, calmly outlining her thoughts, rationally answering the many questions Edwards had put to her, there was still part of her that was railing, screaming out to be heard. Chloe had a sad thought that it might have been her heart.

* * *

--

House stirred from his deep, morphine-induced slumber to find Wilson sitting reading in the chair next to the bed.

He did a mental check over his body and although the agonising pain from earlier had abated, he still felt nauseous, weak and shivery. His health had gone up and down over the past day, but now he knew he was definitely worse. The knowledge made him determined to talk with Wilson while he felt clear-headed enough to make sense. Keeping his thoughts straight was already becoming difficult. He had been trying hard to diagnose his own case, but wavering between periods of lucidity and then dazed consciousness made it almost impossible. If he'd had the energy for it, he would've been absolutely livid with himself for being unable to diagnosis it.

"Wilson," he said quietly.

Wilson immediately looked up and put the journal he was reading to one side. He stood to look over House. House's face was flushed and sweaty, with that slightly yellow undertone that indicated serious illness.

"Hi. How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Crappy. Shut up. Listen." His voice was weak and even he could hear the shake in it.

"Sure, what?" Wilson sat on the edge of the bed and gave House his full attention. He was worried by House's obvious weakness and as soon as he had said whatever he needed to say, Wilson was going to page Taub and Clayton. Something was definitely not right.

"You have to promise…" House took a breath, already finding it difficult to speak a full sentence, "…look after Chloe if anything happens," he finished.

Wilson felt a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach at House's words.

"House, you're going to be fine." He mustered as much confidence into the words as he could manage.

"Bullshit. Stop being sentimental…will you?" Even though the weakness, Wilson could hear House's irritation.

Wilson nodded. "Sure."

"_Promise_ me," he urged.

Wilson blew out a breath. "Okay, I promise you. I don't need to, though. You know I would."

House nodded. He knew. He just needed to hear it. He could feel his brain fogging over but there was one more thing he had to say.

"My leg…"

Wilson blew out a breath.

"House," he said, warningly. "Let's not go into that."

House closed his eyes, struggling against the darkness that was closing in on him.

"I don't want my leg…"

Wilson leant in closer as House's voice fell to a whisper.

"I don't want…"

"What?" Wilson asked, feeling as if he already knew what House was trying to say.

House shook his head from side to side as if clearing it.

"It's okay House," Wilson said reassuringly. "I know what you mean."

"No," House replied. "I don't want Chloe…" he said, trailing off to take a shaky breath. Then, sounding more confused, "Stacy…"

Wilson looked up at the ceiling, as if seeking strength there. He was frustrated, but not surprised, by the fact that House was once again determined to keep his leg even at the cost of his life. He also couldn't believe his friend was asking for Stacy – surely not now, not after everything that had happened between them; not after spending the past year and a half building a relationship with Chloe.

He was jolted back to reality by the sound of a monitor that began beeping menacingly just as House face contorted. He reached quickly for the call button as House began to seize, his panic rising when he saw that the machines indicated his fever had risen to 106.

As nursing staff arrived to deal with the situation, Wilson reached to the phone on the wall and had Taub and Clayton paged stat.

Wilson stood back while the nurses ensured House didn't fall out of bed and organised cooling blankets. Taub arrived and administered diazepam to stop the seizure, leaving House collapsed against the pillows, breathing heavily.

Chloe arrived just as House began to return to normal, the clean clothes and shower having done nothing to rid her of the exhausted look she wore. Wilson noted her hair still hung in damp strands down her back, something he'd never seen the normally impeccably groomed woman do before.

Chloe immediately took in the nurses standing around and Wilson's watchful pose and couldn't help a sense of dread when she looked at his face.

"What is it?" she whispered.

"Wilson, remember…" House called from the bed, obviously delirious.

"Yes, House, I remember," Wilson placated, then turned to reassure Chloe.

"His fever is at 106; he had a seizure," he explained.

Taub spoke briefly to a couple of nurses and checked the monitors again.

"We have to get him up to ICU," he said to both of them.

"Wilson…Wilson…" House murmured again. Wilson was relieved that he had at least stopped asking for Stacy, especially now that Chloe was back in the room.

A crew of more nurses entered the room with Clayton, who immediately ordered them to prepare House for transfer.

"Wilson, remember, you promised." House called out, his voice made bizarrely forceful by the delirium.

"Yes, House, I promised to look after her and I will." Wilson answered, patting his friend on the shoulder as nurses piled equipment around him, readying for transport. He grimaced a smile to Chloe to let her know that House was talking about her.

House was still babbling as the bed rolled away through the door.

"Yes, look after her. Look after both of them."

Wilson looked over to Chloe and watched as the color seemed to drain from her face. She staggered, looking as if she would faint again, and Wilson reached her just in time to wrap an arm around her and pull her into the chair.

_Both of them? _Wilson knew House was delirious, but then what he'd said suddenly clicked with Wilson.

"You're pregnant?" he said to Chloe, disbelievingly. "I didn't know."

"Neither did he," Chloe whispered.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: **Hey, I just want to send another shout-out to Gypsy71 who let me borrow some of her plot and quite a bit of her medical research for this story. Thanks again Gypsy!

Thanks to everyone for your reviews and special thanks to those of you who've been there from the start and who review all the time. You guys rock. You know who you are.

* * *

--

Chloe and Wilson were wrapped in silence in House's deserted room, both of them shocked into inaction. Chloe sat in the chair, staring at the empty space where the bed used to be; Wilson stood near the window, staring out into the rapidly closing-in night.

Fear of loss assaulted Chloe on all sides. Of course she'd been upset by how sick House had been for the past couple of days, but for the first time she started to consider that it might be serious. _Really_ serious. If House didn't recover fully – or worse – how could she cope without the man who had become the lynchpin of her life?

And she had no idea whether she could go through the emotional upheaval of another miscarriage if she lost this pregnancy. Then, even if House was better and the baby was healthy, she had no idea if he'd want to be a father. Could she chose between them? Could she have Greg's baby but not Greg? Could she go through with having a termination?

She took in a deep breath. Would a baby be able to replace his presence in her life if he didn't come back from this?

Lost in their separate thoughts, neither Wilson or Chloe knew how long they'd waited when Taub came back to find them.

Taub had been surprised they hadn't followed House up to the ICU, but could understand how they must be feeling. Hell, he didn't even like House that much, and it was a shock to him to see the man this ill.

"He's in ICU now." Taub's voice shattered the quiet between Chloe and Wilson and they both started.

"Clayton's doing some more tests. It's probably a good idea to head up there because he'll want to talk to you once he's done."

Taub took a moment to look at both of them and tried to get a grasp of the weird vibe in the room. He shook his head and gave up.

"I'll see you up there."

Wilson took a deep breath. He needed more time to think.

"I'll meet you there Chloe, I just have to check something." Wilson called out to Taub, who was just leaving the room.

"Taub, can you take Chloe there?"

Taub nodded and returned to the room, offering a hand and a gentle smile to Chloe.

"Come on, I'll show you the way."

* * *

--

As Wilson headed for his office he tried to reign in his emotions. He thought he'd been at his emotional limit at the realisation that this time House was really sick. At dealing with House's deathbed-style requests. Then the news that Chloe was pregnant had pushed that boundary even further.

He reached his office and closed and locked the door behind him. He knew he needed to get back to the ICU, that both House and Chloe needed him. But first he had to get things in perspective.

Collapsing onto his sofa, he had to swallow hard at the realisation that the emotion that had tipped him over was _jealousy_. Hell, he guessed it was understandable to be jealous of House and Chloe – they had a successful relationship. Of course it was not without its ups and downs, but on the outside looking in, Wilson realised it was the kind of relationship he'd never managed, not even with three marriages behind him.

Now they were having a baby; would be a _real_ family. Wilson had never told House, but his third marriage had dissolved in part because his wife had miscarried and then they'd been unable to conceive again. Wilson knew it wasn't PC for a single man to want a child. Not in the way it was possible for a single woman. Cuddy, for example, could do IVF, adopt, whatever, and people would throw parties for her. Wilson knew the only way he could have a child was to find a woman and have a relationship at least long enough for her to give birth. And given his history, he wondered if that was getting less and less likely.

And, Wilson knew, in a very shadowy and very hidden part inside of him, he was jealous of Chloe. Jealous of this connection she now had with House. That she now had more of a claim on the man than Wilson did.

When House and Chloe had first got together, Wilson had genuinely been happy for House. And Chloe had turned out to be one of those girlfriends who was generous with her partner's time. Poker nights continued, Wilson still came over on Saturday afternoons to watch a game. Mostly Chloe wasn't there. Or she'd be in the office, working. Sometimes she'd join them afterwards and the three of them would have pizza, and it was fun and companionable. House and Chloe weren't particularly physically demonstrative, so Wilson had rarely felt the awkward "third wheel".

No, it wasn't kissing or touching that exiled him from their world. More the shared jokes, the meaningful looks. And not very often, but occasionally, that would be enough to make him have to leave. At those times, Wilson railed against Chloe. _But I've known him longer!_ he wanted to yell. _Where were you during the infarction? What about when that cop was trying to destroy his life? Where were you then?_ He wanted to stamp his foot like a toddler having a temper tantrum because its favourite toy had been taken away.

But now they needed him, both of them. _All three of them_, he corrected himself.

He buried the uncharitable, wicked thoughts back where they belonged.

He stood and took a deep breath, turning himself back into James Wilson, best friend, supporter, all-round good guy. He unlocked the door and headed for the ICU.

* * *

--

Chloe had been sitting listening to both Taub and Clayton as they explained House's condition. She was a smart woman, and she was trying very hard to concentrate, but the words refused to make sense to her. She'd heard friends talk about 'pregnant brain' and she wondered if this was what it felt like. But it seemed to her that because she was House's girlfriend that were assuming she also had a medical degree and they were using the most technical language possible.

_Where was James?_ Chloe thought frantically.

"Chloe, I know it's scary, but you have to do this," Taub cajoled. "It's important we get him into surgery as soon as possible."

"Okay," Chloe said hesitantly. "I guess we don't have a choice. But I don't want to sign anything until James is here and I can check with him."

Wilson walked into the ICU waiting area just in time to overhear Chloe's statement. He felt a surge of guilt for his mean-spirited thoughts and hurried over to them. He sat down on the sofa next to Chloe and took her hand in his.

"Right, I'm here. Sorry. Start again."

Chloe looked at him with gratitude and desperation in her eyes.

"They want me to give permission for surgery. They think they might need to amputate. What do you think?"

Wilson reeled back. How had it got to this?

"What's the story?" he asked Clayton.

"The compartment syndrome tests were negative so I did a needle aspiration. It's acute osteomyelitis. We don't know how bad until we get in there, but if the infection's spread through the bone, then we'll have to amputate."

Wilson was stunned. Before he had a chance to respond, Cuddy came bustling in.

"I just heard. What's his status?" she asked brusquely. Clayton repeated his diagnosis, his already crisp tone starting to become tight with irritation. How many people needed to be involved in signing a simple consent form? The girlfriend had de facto status, so wasn't that enough?

Cuddy sighed as she took in the situation and sat down heavily on the sofa next to Chloe. She had been tied up all day and hadn't realised how quickly things had progressed. She'd gone to House's room to check on him before leaving for the day and the nursing staff had told her of the move to ICU. And now they were talking about amputating his leg. She was just thankful that this time House was unconscious.

Chloe felt both grateful and overwhelmed. James on one side and Lisa on the other. She wondered what House would have thought if he could see the three of them lined up on the sofa, desperate in their care and love for him.

A conversation peppered with medical terminology exploded around her as the four doctors discussed, argued and debated the diagnosis and treatment. Chloe stayed out of it until it became clear that it boiled down to an argument between Cuddy and Wilson. And it wasn't a medical argument; it was over what House would want.

"It's different this time, Wilson," Cuddy argued. "He's lived with the pain for so long."

"Which is exactly why we can't do it," Wilson retorted, just as passionate. "It would be like…like…negating everything he's been through."

"Of course it wouldn't," Cuddy said, exasperated. "Last time he expected to regain full use of his leg. This time he would know that can't happen." Cuddy was convinced that this time, House's life would mean more to him than his leg. House had loved Stacy as he now loved Chloe. But he was older, wiser, sharpened by his pain and the loneliness of the past few years. Surely he would feel that it was worth sacrificing his leg to hold on to the life he'd rebuilt?

"That's not the point. You're just projecting your guilt," Wilson snapped. "What you and Stacy did last time was wrong, Cuddy and you know it. Your just trying to justify your actions last time. House hasn't changed that much. That was what he thought then, and that's what he wants now."

Cuddy reeled back at Wilson's venomous words and Chloe started at the mention of Stacy. She wondered how Wilson could be so certain what House would want, but she didn't want the argument escalating any further.

"Can we do something for now that will let him recover enough so he can make the decision himself?" Chloe suggested.

"We've already been treating him with antibiotics. But the infection is past the point of them being effective – we have to do the surgery to remove the necrotic tissue," Clayton answered. "So, no, we can't."

Chloe sighed. "If only he could tell us what he wanted."

Wilson couldn't help a flush rising to his cheeks.

"He did," he said quietly.

Chloe and Cuddy snapped around to stare at him.

Wilson looked away, embarrassed at remembering how House had called for Stacy.

"He told me he didn't want them to take his leg."

Chloe could see the steam rise in Cuddy as she began to protest.

"How could you…" she yelled.

Clayton's cold voice cut through the argument.

"We can't keep debating this. The longer we sit here talking, the further progressed the infection gets. And the less likelihood there is of saving the leg at all." He turned his focus to Chloe and held a clipboard out to her.

"It's up to you Chloe."

The room fell silent and all eyes were on her. Chloe didn't know what the right decision was. She had been completely in agreement with Cuddy, she had felt in her heart-of-hearts that despite – perhaps even _because _– of what had happened last time House would chose his life over keeping his leg. But Wilson's admission that House had told him what he wanted changed things.

Chloe had myriad emotions running through her, but overwhelmingly she was angry. Angry with House for the decision he had made; angry at Wilson for being the messenger; angry at herself for making the assumption that House would chose her over his leg. Angry that she hadn't had the opportunity to talk to him about this. How could he be selfish enough to want to save his leg at the possible risk of losing his life? Surely he didn't want to miss out on their future together? Especially not now. Now that she needed him more than ever.

But although he'd never given her more than the basic details, Chloe knew Stacy's betrayal had cut House deeply – she wondered if he'd ever recovered from it. There was no way she could repeat that mistake. And what if it wasn't a selfish decision on House's part? What if he just simply couldn't bear the thought of living without his leg – crippled as it was? If that was true, then the selfishness was Chloe's – wanting to have House alive whether he had one leg or two. When you loved someone the way she loved House, then the decision had to be what he wanted, not what she wanted. She knew she couldn't betray him in that way.

Chloe shook herself and made a growling sound in the back of her throat – the only way she could express her anger and frustration. She reached out and grabbed the clipboard from Clayton.

"Do the surgery. Get as much of the infection as you can. But don't amputate." She looked at him squarely in the eyes to be sure he understood. "I do not give you permission to amputate the leg, whatever you find. Okay?"

Clayton grimaced at her words.

"I want you to be clear that if the infection has spread and we don't amputate, then it is very likely he will die." Clayton made no secret of his opinion of Chloe's decision.

"I know."

The doctor nodded and Chloe bent her head to sign the release forms. She handed them back to Clayton and he quickly stood and went to arrange the surgery. Taub followed on his heels.

Chloe could feel both Wilson and Cuddy's eyes on her, but she knew she couldn't deal with them right away. A surge of nausea swept through her, washing away the anger. _I might just have signed away his life_, she thought. _My best friend, my lover, my baby's father. His death might be my fault. _She stood on shaky feet, heading to find a restroom, leaving without saying a word to the others.

Wilson sat back into the sofa and released a breath. He had thought he would feel satisfied, Chloe had sided with his opinion. But instead he felt hollow. The decision could possibly result in House's death. Where was the satisfaction in that?

He looked over to Cuddy who was staring after Chloe, watching as she made her way across the floor toward the restrooms near the elevators.

"I'm sorry Wilson," Cuddy said quietly.

"Me too," Wilson answered.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: **Hey everyone, all this angst is seriously draining to write. Leave me some love, please, we've still got a way to go and I need the energy to finish!

* * *

--

Chloe retched futilely for a while, and then sat for a long while on the cold tiled floor. No one had come to find her, so obviously they were giving her some space. Her thoughts were an incoherent whirl and staring at that evenly spaced blank white tiles was a way of trying to block everything out. Eventually she'd become aware of feeling cold and uncomfortable and realised she needed to be there to hear any news.

She rejoined Wilson and Cuddy in the waiting area, sitting on a chair across from them. Shakily, she pulled her hair back and kept her eyes on the floor, unable to look at either of them.

Cuddy looked at Chloe's drawn, pale face and shaking hands.

"Have you eaten today?" she asked.

Chloe shook her head.

Cuddy rose without a word and headed for the elevators.

"Are you okay?" Wilson asked, concerned.

"Not really," Chloe said quietly. She looked up and met his eyes.

"I'm sorry Chloe." Wilson felt sure she had done the right thing, but he knew it had affected her deeply.

Chloe just nodded.

"I'm amazed at how courageous you are. I know that was tough." Wilson took a breath. "I'm sure it doesn't make you feel any better, but it's what House wanted."

Chloe nodded. He got it. He knew why she'd decided the way she had. It was nothing to do with him, Cuddy, or – God forbid – Stacy. It was about loving House. She knew he would understand that.

They shared a sad smile.

"I'm sorry, I haven't said congratulations yet, either."

"Don't," Chloe said, looking back to the floor. Her anger with House and her conflicting guilt at the possibility that she'd just made a decision that could cost him his life made even thinking about the baby twist her heart painfully. She thought ruefully about Dr Edwards' warning to avoid stress to protect the pregnancy. _Could life actually be more stressful than this?_ she wondered. At that moment she felt like she had a time-bomb instead of a baby inside her, not knowing when the pain and blood of loss would explode.

"Why not? You must be thrilled, especially when you thought it was probably impossible."

Chloe shrugged and Wilson was taken aback by her reaction. He was about to ask more when he recalled her words as House had been transferred to ICU.

"What did you mean – House didn't know?"

Chloe sighed. She didn't want to talk about any of it. And, as she'd been trying to think for the past two days, the attention should be on House, not her.

"I only just found out," Chloe muttered reluctantly. "Yesterday."

"And you didn't tell him because he was sick," Wilson mused.

"Yeah."

"So did he find out? Or was he just delirious?"

"I don't know. Maybe Taub told him. Even though I told him not to," she muttered.

"Taub?" Wilson asked, curious as to why House's intern would know. Then it clicked. "Oh, the tests in the ER."

"Uh-huh."

Cuddy returned holding a cardboard tray of coffees and a paper bag. She sat them down and handed them out to Chloe and Wilson.

"Coffee. Muffins, fruit salad, chocolate and yoghurt. I wasn't sure what you'd want, so I got a selection."

"Thanks," Chloe said gratefully. She knew she should have the fruit or the yoghurt, but she reached for the chocolate. _Craving?_ she wondered.

Chloe was grateful that Wilson dropped their previous conversation in front of Cuddy.

None of them said much for the next hour, sipping their coffees and munching their way through the snacks Cuddy had bought.

Cuddy sat and fidgeted, then got up to pace, seemingly unable to sit still. Wilson sat on the couch, staring at the elevators as if watching them would make Clayton return with good news. Out of the corner of his eye he also kept a close watch on Chloe who sat with sphinx-like stillness in her chair, gazing out at the windows at the end of the corridor.

When Chloe stirred to stretch and yawn, Wilson pulled his attention from the elevators.

"Why don't you go and lie down?" he suggested.

Chloe shook her head. No way was she leaving until there was news.

Wilson smiled ruefully. He couldn't blame her, he wasn't about to leave either.

"Okay then, well, how about stretching out on the sofa here?" he began to rise.

Chloe looked over, the idea was enticing.

"Stay," she said, rising from her seat.

Wilson frowned, but sat down when he saw what Chloe intended.

She sat on the sofa next to him then lay out, resting her head in his lap. She looked up at him.

"Is this okay?" She didn't want him to think it was inappropriate, but she could really use the comfort of contact with another human being.

He nodded and smiled, smoothing the hair back from her temple, resting his palm on her head in a brotherly gesture.

Chloe smiled and closed her eyes.

"Thanks," she murmured.

Suddenly Cuddy turned to them and began to speak.

"I remember this time I asked House to give a lecture. It was only to students, no one important, but he was set against it. We traded our usual currency of clinic hours but he still refused to do it."

She smiled with the reminiscence.

"You know, I think he only refused because he thought I expected him to. I knew he'd love the chance to warp young minds for an hour or two – have a room full of people hanging off his every word."

"I remember that," said Wilson. "Diagnostics. He talked about his own case."

"Yeah. Dr Riley wasn't impressed. He came back and the students were disappointed they didn't have House again. He got great reviews in the subject feedback."

Wilson nodded, smiling, remembering the rapt expressions of the students on the day.

"He'd make a great teacher," Cuddy mused. "If only…"

Wilson laughed at the idea.

"If only he wouldn't be so awful at it," he added.

The conversation set off another story in Wilson's head and he and Cuddy started recalling a time House had been caught breaking into the drugs locker. For once he wasn't actually after pain meds – it had been part of a practical joke – but it was a serious offence that had taken both Wilson and Cuddy days of hard work to smooth over. But now the two of them smiled and laughed remembering his dogged refusal to apologise.

Tears were quietly running down Chloe's face as listening to their stories set off reminiscences of her own. It wasn't something she was about to share, but while Wilson and Cuddy were remembering House at work, she was remembering House at home, in bed. Her favourite thing that he did wasn't sexual. It didn't happen every night – and maybe that's what made it special – but occasionally she'd be lying there, about to drift off to sleep, and she'd feel him reach over for her. He'd wrap an arm around her waist and literally drag her across the bed into him, curling his body around hers. Sometimes it woke her up, sometimes it was even uncomfortable, but she never minded. She supposed it was kind of lazy of him, after all, he could just move over and cuddle into her instead. But there was something about the possessiveness of the gesture that caught her. Like House was making a silent declaration. _Mine._

Chloe wondered if he'd meant his impromptu marriage proposal the day before. House often spoke without thinking, but he rarely said something he didn't mean. Then again, he had been heavily medicated.

At that moment, Chloe didn't care about diamond rings or weddings or anything other than House coming out of this alive and intact.

She sniffed and tried to reign in her tears, certain Wilson was going to notice the wet patch on his pants soon.

"You know, House can't help himself getting into trouble, even when he's this sick," Cuddy said.

"What do you mean?" Wilson asked.

"I organised a laptop for him last night because he was bored. And then I got told today by the IT department that someone had accessed a heap of confidential patient and employee records overnight. They gave me a list of whose had been accessed and I couldn't help noticing that they all seemed to have one common connection. I don't know how it happened, but somehow he was able to get right into the hospital's system."

Wilson chuckled, for some reason more amused by his friend's ingenuity than annoyed by the invasion of privacy, instinctively knowing that his records would have been on the list.

"Did he look at mine?" Chloe asked in a small voice, the first time she'd spoken in a while.

"Yes, he did." Cuddy answered, her voice still amused, although she knew the whole thing was going to cause her problems down the track. Of course, that was assuming House was around to make use of the information he'd garnered. The thought wiped the smile from her face.

"Oh." Chloe couldn't help the noise escaping her. So that's how he knew. She wondered how thorough Dr Edwards note-taking was. Would there be a note on her file that she'd asked questions about termination? She wasn't sure how much detail would be on the computer record. Was there a copy of the ultrasound picture she'd seen yesterday? Had House already seen their child?

She felt Wilson's hand squeeze her head lightly, wordlessly letting her know he understood what Cuddy's response meant.

Suddenly, Chloe's anger returned. They shouldn't be sitting around talking about House's trouble-making as if he was already gone. And he shouldn't have looked at her records. It was his own fault that there was something to distract him from concentrating on getting well. And when she miscarried, that would just one more thing to distract him from focussing on his own recovery. She sat up abruptly, wiping her face.

"We shouldn't be talking like this," she said loudly, causing both Wilson and Cuddy to start back a little.

"Sorry about your pants," she said looking down at the messy spot where she'd been lying.

Cuddy reached over with a handful of tissues she'd produced from somewhere.

Chloe handed one to Wilson and used the others to wipe her face and blow her nose. It was time to get over being pathetic, she decided. Time to get back in control of things. She was a strong, independent, intelligent woman. _Not that anyone would have been able to tell that over the past couple of days_, she reluctantly admitted.

She straightened her clothes, stretched out her back. She rummaged in her purse and found a brush and ran it through her hair. She looked at her watch and while she could read that it was almost ten pm, she wasn't sure what that meant.

"How long has it been?" she asked.

"Almost two hours," Wilson answered, dabbing at his pants with the tissue.

"And is that good or bad?"

"I guess it depends," Cuddy answered. "It's probably good, though, because it means they're removing as much of the infection as possible."

"I don't think we need to start worrying yet," Wilson said soothingly.

Chloe stood up, intending to pace around a little, stretch out her legs. The room swam dangerously around her and the periphery of her vision started to blacken. Determined not to faint again, she sat back down quickly, breathing deeply.

"Head between your knees," Wilson instructed, moving over to her, gently pushing her head down.

Chloe nodded to show she'd heard and bent over, drawing her breaths carefully and slowly. Wilson rubbed her back lightly. Slowly her vision cleared and she gingerly sat back into the sofa.

"Stood up too quickly again," she muttered. "Going to have to watch that."

Cuddy had moved over and was sitting on the low table in front her, a look of concern in her eyes.

"Eat this," she said forcefully, holding out the blueberry muffin she'd bought earlier. "A chocolate bar isn't enough to keep you going for a whole day."

Chloe shook her head. The idea of swallowing the sweet, doughy cake made her stomach turn.

"I'll be back." Wilson abruptly rose and headed for the elevators.

"Okay, well at least have some water," Cuddy encouraged.

Chloe nodded and accepted the paper cup Cuddy had filled at the water fountain.

Sipping slowly, Chloe kept her eyes away from Cuddy, wanting to avoid her questioning stare. It was better for her to think it was caused by stress and a stomach bug. It was bad enough that Wilson knew – that House knew! – she didn't need anymore sympathetic looks.

A few minutes later, Wilson appeared with a plate. He'd been to the doctor's lounge and toasted a couple of slices of bread.

"Here," he offered.

Chloe took the plate and looked at the toast, waiting to see what her stomach did. But it seemed the idea of something crunchy with very little taste was exactly what she needed. She picked up a piece and nibbled on the edge.

"Thanks," she said gratefully.

* * *

--

It was another two-and-a-half hours before Clayton emerged from the elevators and made his way over to the exhausted trio in the lounge area. It was Wilson who noticed him first, stirring the women from their slumped positions in opposite armchairs. They'd given up conversation at least an hour earlier, each of them ostensibly absorbed in a police crime drama on the television. In reality none of them could have recounted the plot; all were absorbed in their own private thoughts.

Clayton sat down without speaking, a solemn look on his face.

Chloe felt as if she had lost the ability to breathe. One look at Clayton and she was convinced he was about to give them that doctor's pat: _Despite our best efforts…_

"He's in recovery," Clayton said tiredly, the strain of more than four hours of surgery showing on his face.

"There was an abscess in the bone that we had to excise. We put in a plate and pins and I think we got enough of the infected tissue to give the antibiotics a chance."

Wilson was the first to speak.

"So you think he'll make a full recovery?" he asked, an eager tone in his voice.

"His leg looks as good as it can be, given the circumstances," Clayton hedged.

Chloe felt a twist of guilt at his words. It felt to her that Clayton was implying the circumstances were the limitations she'd placed on him for the surgery. Looking at the doctor though, she knew he hadn't finished.

"What? What is it?" Chloe asked, dreading the answer.

"The surgery we did would have been a strain on someone who was young, fit and healthy. House doesn't meet any of those descriptors." He took a deep breath.

"He had a cardiac arrest on the table."

Cuddy gasped and covered her mouth, turning away from the surgeon as if doing so would make his words disappear.

"His heart stopped for around a minute, but we managed to get him back. His fever is still high, so we have him in a chemically induced coma to reduce the chance of brain damage. But the good news is that he wasn't oxygen deprived for any dangerous length of time."

"How long will he be…?" Chloe asked.

"A couple of days, I think," Clayton answered. "We'll have to keep an eye on him and see how the infection goes. The cultures told us it was golden staph – he probably picked it up from a clinic patient. We've just got to hope it's not a resistant strain. But right now I'm concerned about possible adverse reactions to the antibiotics.

"House's…" he paused, as if searching for the right word, "…_use_ of Vicodin compromises his liver and kidney function. We're having to give him massive doses of oxacillin and I'm worried that because they're already weakened…"

He trailed off, knowing it was obvious what he was getting at.

Chloe sat back in the chair. It wasn't over, not by a long shot, but at least he had survived the surgery. One step done, so many more to go.

"So what's next?" Wilson asked.

"We wait," Clayton said simply.

--


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: **Thanks for your reviews! And here's a present in return...take a deep breath!

* * *

--

Chloe had slept for a few hours in House's office again while he was in recovery. Wilson came to get her around six am, when House was back in ICU. He'd stayed with House through the early hours of the morning while Chloe slept and Cuddy went home. Once Chloe was there, Wilson left, assuring her he'd just catch a few hours of sleep and be back before lunch. Cuddy had also promised to return in the early morning, so Wilson felt better about leaving Chloe, knowing Cuddy wouldn't be far away.

Chloe felt bleary, not quite awake, and certainly not ready to deal with seeing House lying in bed surrounded by more medical equipment than she thought possible. The respirator helping him breathe while he was comatose sounded loud and raspy in the otherwise quiet room.

Once Wilson left she could feel herself trembling, her reaction almost like going into shock. With his eyes closed, the respirator equipment obscuring the lower half of his face, and his body sagging lifelessly in the bed, Chloe couldn't even be sure it was House. Her Greg.

She looked at his hands to reassure herself, knowing them almost as well as she knew her own. She pulled the chair right up to the bed and grasped one of his hands in both of hers. She leaned her forearms on the bed, resting her head on top. She could feel his fingertips tangled with her own against her cheek. She had no idea how long she stayed that way, not even moving when Cuddy arrived.

--

Around midday Wilson returned, bringing lunch for himself and both women. In the cafeteria, he'd had to fight through the usual crowd of Saturday visitors and the effort had made him grumpy and aware of his sleep deprivation. When he walked into House's room he made an effort to suppress his irritation, knowing that they all shared a lack of sleep.

Chloe had brought House's iPod from his office and Wilson couldn't help smiling at the incongruous sight of the white ear buds in his friend's ears.

"What's he listening to?" Wilson asked as he handed around sandwiches and coffee.

"I don't know," Chloe answered,. "I just put it on 'recently played' because I figured that was the safest bet."

She picked up the player and took a look at the screen.

"_Mozart's Piano Concerto No 21 in C_," she read with a little start of surprise, not expecting to find classical music.

Wilson nodded. "Nice choice."

They ate in silence for a while, Chloe surprising herself by managing to eat almost a whole sandwich.

After a while Cuddy rose.

"I'm going to take a break if that's okay," she asked Chloe, serious in asking for permission to leave. "I'll still be in the hospital – I'm just going to go to my office to catch up on a few things. I'll come back."

Chloe nodded and smiled weakly. She wished for a moment she could escape too. She wanted more than anything for this to never have happened. For it to be like any other Saturday. Wilson and House would be sitting on the sofa at home, yelling at some game on the television while Chloe tried to concentrate on work. She'd be annoyed by their interruptions to her concentration, as she usually was. But eventually the sound of their fun would drag her away from work and she'd join them for a beer. _Oh, if only that could be today…_

After Cuddy left, Wilson tried to talk to Chloe about the baby again. It had been on his mind all morning, and he was sure that if his body hadn't been so exhausted the thoughts would have kept him from sleeping.

"What did the doctor tell you about the pregnancy?" he asked. He felt like this was a conversation Chloe would be having with House if the situation were different. He'd meant his promise to House to look after her and believed that meant now as well as in the future if things went wrong. Surely she needed to talk to someone about what was going on?

Chloe bristled. She'd banished the whole thing from her mind for almost the whole morning and didn't need it back in her head now. Her focus had to be on Greg, not on anything else.

"Wilson, I don't really want to talk about it," she admitted.

"Why not?" he asked, genuinely curious.

"Because it's not…" she sighed, wondering how to express herself. "It might not be a factor."

"What do you mean?" Wilson frowned.

"I mean that there are more important things to think about."

Wilson looked at her, astonished. Could she really be saying what he thought she was saying?

"You mean you're not going to…" he trailed off.

"I told you, I don't want to talk about it."

Chloe realised that Wilson had misunderstood her, but she didn't have the energy to correct him – in fact she didn't think she even had the words to explain herself. She just knew she couldn't allow herself to talk about it. Talking about it would make it real and would cause her to start becoming even more attached to the whole thing than she already was. There was still such a high probability she wouldn't keep the pregnancy. And even if she did, there was still the possibility that, assuming he was okay after all this, House would not want a child in their lives. On another day, in another world where he wasn't lying in ICU his life hanging by a thread, Chloe would have been angry and resentful about being forced to choose between him and a baby. But that was academic. This was the real world.

The close camaraderie that she and Wilson had shared to that point seemed to chill as Wilson turned away from her.

He was gob-smacked by her cold words and the unbelievable decision she had made. He knew it wasn't his place to argue with her, but he was honestly shattered by what she intended. Of course he knew his own personal feelings were influencing his thoughts, but he couldn't help thinking that it wouldn't be what House would want. They knew he'd accessed her medical records so they could be reasonably sure he hadn't just been delirious when he'd asked Wilson to look after "both of them".

"House asked for Stacy before he had the seizure," Wilson said suddenly. He was filled with a need to make Chloe feel bad, to injure her in some way for her decision. How could she throw away a chance to be connected to House forever? Wilson knew from hard experience that marriage vows meant little. _But a child forced you to stay together, you couldn't leave once that happened._ The thought gave Wilson a shock, and he suddenly questioned his real motivations for wanting a child.

Chloe's lips narrowed into a thin line.

"What?" she asked, hearing the sharp tone in her own voice.

Wilson already regretted saying it; he knew it had been unnecessarily cruel. He also knew it was not the way to get Chloe to reconsider her choice.

"He was delirious," he back-pedalled. "He probably didn't know what he was saying."

"Right," Chloe said, uncertainly. Why had Wilson told her that? And why had House asked for Stacy? She knew that he'd never quite resolved his feelings towards the other woman. He'd told Chloe that he loved her, and she believed him. But Chloe knew Stacy had been the love of his life. Was it Stacy that he wanted by his side through this? Chloe had a hard time reconciling that with what House had told her about Stacy's medical decisions for him last time. She didn't know what to think.

Chloe wondered – should she call Stacy and let her know what had happened? But she and House had no contact at all for a long time now, to Chloe's knowledge. But that thought made her start questioning herself – maybe he still was in touch with her? Maybe he needed her?

"Did Greg and Stacy keep in contact?" she asked Wilson hesitantly.

"I don't think so." Wilson searched desperately for something to change the subject. "Do you want to call his parents?" he asked.

Chloe thought about it. She knew House wasn't close with his parents, although they'd never really discussed it. She'd spoken to his mother on the phone a couple of times, but they'd never met; he hadn't met her parents either. Both of them were happy to live in their own little world where the disappointments of their respective families didn't intrude. This was different, though.

"I guess I should," Chloe said reluctantly.

"Or I can do it if you'd prefer," Wilson offered as an olive branch. He knew House had ensured that Chloe and his parents were kept as separate as possible.

Chloe nodded, still not meeting Wilson's eyes.

"Thanks, that would be good."

--

Wilson went to his office to make the call. House's mother was concerned and upset, but she'd confessed she'd recently had a fall and would find it hard to travel up to Princeton. His father could come, but he really needed to be there to take care of her. Wilson had reassured them that he would keep them up to date with regular calls.

He returned to House's room and updated Chloe.

Chloe took in the information without looking away from House. She had been staring at him, wondering how well she really knew him. What was going on in his brain right now? Was he thinking about Stacy? Was he thinking about her and their baby? If he knew about the pregnancy, why hadn't he said anything to her that morning?

Chloe had to admit she was glad she wouldn't be dealing with meeting House's parents for the first time on top of everything else.

Chloe and Wilson spent most of the rest of the afternoon in silence, not meeting each others eyes, the distance between them seeming unsurmountable. Chloe was tempted to try to explain herself, but she was determined that she didn't need his permission or forgiveness for anything. The only other person who really counted in this equation was House and he was unable to comment. And maybe he didn't even want her.

At that thought the shrill tone of her mobile emerged from her purse. She knew she shouldn't have it on, but when she saw the caller ID said it was her boss, calling her on a Saturday, she decided to take the call. She moved away from the bed, over to the door, as if that would mitigate any potential problems.

Wilson watched as she took a deep breath and answered, greeting her boss calmly and giving a thirty-second update on House's condition.

"That's okay, what do you need?" Chloe asked, obviously in response to a "sorry to bother you" type comment. Wilson could see her shoulders rise with tension.

She listened for a while, a frown crossing her face.

"The report is saved in the G drive. I finished updating it the other day. They should be able to proceed with the talks with that version. And then…"

He saw her grimace as the other person interrupted her.

She sighed.

"Right. Well they just need to tell Colin that he has to go through due process with that."

The other person talked at length and Chloe's posture became more and more defensive as she listened.

"What are they, idiots?" she asked, angrily. "Tell them to calm down. Tell them it won't be long. I'll be back in a few days. The world's not going to end."

Chloe finished the conversation abruptly, flipping her phone closed and almost throwing it back into her purse. She paced over to the window.

"Things not going so well at work?" Wilson asked cautiously.

"You could say that," Chloe muttered. In fact things were going extraordinarily badly. It wasn't necessarily that she was irreplaceable, but she'd been the main person involved in the negotiations right from the start. She had the background knowledge, the history and the best understanding of the personalities involved. Her absence was causing big problems for her office.

Chloe stared out the window for a while, jealous of the people down in the car park who seemed to just be going about their usual daily business. She'd told her boss that the world wasn't going to come to an end. But maybe hers was.

She looked back at House lying so inhumanly still. Normally when he slept there were still signs of that irrepressible mental energy – an eyebrow twitch, his lips moving with unspoken words. This body lying in the bed showed no signs of the soul that usually inhabited it. No matter what he felt about her, the baby, Stacy, all of it – Chloe loved him desperately and watching him lie there was torturous.

Chloe had a stressful job. And, even when things were good, her life with House could sometimes be a strain – if not because of House's words and actions, then because of his erratic schedule and the phone calls that came at any time of the day or night. She was used to living life at a level of stress that other people might not enjoy. But the call from work seemed to be the metaphorical straw on her back.

Suddenly, like a ghost from her past, she felt the stabbing pain in her abdomen. And then the walls of the room felt as if they were closing in. She'd known it was coming, had tried to prepare for it, but nothing from her previous experience could help her with it this time. The first time she hadn't known what was wrong. This time she knew what she was losing.

Wrapping her arms around her belly she bent over double and threw up on the floor.

"What is it?" Wilson asked, jumping up to help her.

Chloe struggled for breath, could feel herself growing sweaty with effort. The pain was eclipsed by her panic, she felt the most intense sense of dread, wondering if the dying baby was going to take her with it.

There was a lot of activity going on around her, but Chloe was oblivious, caught up in her struggle to breathe, the pain in her belly, the fear that clenched her entire body.

She felt herself being laid on the floor by a gentle pair of hands, wondering absently why she hadn't fainted yet. But then she felt it coming, the darkness encroaching.

_I'm sorry, baby,_ she thought as she blacked out.


	12. Chapter 12

For the past day or two, House's brain had taken him on a journey.

He had been revisiting one of the most idyllic periods of his childhood. It had been when he was seven, while his father had been stationed in Italy. His mother had been sick; as a little boy all he had been aware of was that she slept a lot and he'd seen her cry. Looking back, he was sure she'd been suffering from depression, but as an adult he'd never asked, knowing she'd be embarrassed.

While she was ill, a young woman from a local village had come in to be his sitter. He was still too young to understand the differences between girls and boys – just knew from the other boys that you had to run away from girls because they had germs – but Gabriella wasn't a girl. She was beautiful and she treated the gangly seven-year-old like an adult and taught him how to speak Italian.

He couldn't wait to get home from school and he followed her around the house, helping cook dinner and even doing some of the housework. Sometimes she would take him down to the water and they would talk to the fishermen and chose a fish to take home. Other times they'd be in the garden, snipping herbs and Gabriella would teach him the Italian words for the various plants and animals they found. She was endlessly affectionate, kissing and hugging him to her without warning. House would pretend to mind, wiping her enthusiastic kisses from his cheek with a "blurgh" noise. But in reality, he'd never experienced such a shower of loving gestures in his life and he couldn't get enough.

He was forever singing her praises to his father when he got home. His father had teased him, at first gently, then more nastily as his boy's crush showed no signs of abating. One day when he came home from school, his mother was back in her usual place in the kitchen and Gabriella was nowhere to be found. His father had told him to get over it, after all he had his mother and his father now, he didn't need her around. House had cried, anguished sobs from his seven-year-old broken heart. His dad didn't think boys should cry and House had been punished for his grief.

He'd learnt early to bury his sorrow deep.

* * *

--

This time when Chloe came to, it was a pillow, not the floor, under her head. She blinked in the light of the room, surprised to find it was from the overhead lighting and that it was dark outside. She felt as if she'd been unconscious for only a few minutes.

She turned her head to find Cuddy sitting near the window, her head down over papers in her lap.

Chloe moved in the bed to let Cuddy know she was conscious, not sure what to say.

Cuddy looked up and gave Chloe an encouraging smile when she saw that she was awake.

"Hi," she said gently, rising from her chair to move closer to the bed. "How are you feeling?"

Chloe did a mental check over her body. She wasn't sure what she should be feeling but nothing hurt.

"Okay," she answered and Cuddy caught the note of surprise in her voice. "I suppose the anaesthetic is still wearing off," Chloe guessed.

Cuddy shook her head.

"No, no anaesthetic – you were given a mild sedative." Cuddy sat down on the edge of the bed. "You had a panic attack. A bad one, but that's understandable given everything that's going on."

Chloe looked at Cuddy disbelievingly.

"A panic attack?" she asked. _But I thought I was going to die_, she reflected. _It couldn't have all been in my mind._

"And the…the baby?" she asked, realising it was the first time she'd said the word aloud.

Cuddy patted her arm reassuringly.

"All okay. Dr Edwards came and checked everything. Seems like a tenacious little thing you've got there. Just like its father," she added with a smile.

Chloe closed her eyes, trying to absorb everything.

"How is Greg?" she asked.

"He's still the same, but the good news is that his fever is almost gone and his liver and kidney function are still good. Clayton thinks that he shouldn't need to be in the coma much longer."

"And I'm still pregnant," Chloe said, wanting to be sure she hadn't misunderstood. She'd been so sure she was having a miscarriage.

"Yes, you're still pregnant. In fact with the second ultrasound Dr Edwards decided you're probably more like eleven weeks' pregnant. The baby is a little small, which is why she initially thought it was less than that. But other than that it all seems good. She wants you to rest as much as you can, but otherwise you're both doing fine."

Chloe caught her breath in a small sob and covered her face with her hands, not wanting Cuddy to see her expression of relief. How could she have possibly have thought that she could have a termination if Greg didn't want their baby? How could she have imagined that she'd be able to do that and then get on with her life, pretending nothing had happened?

She still didn't know what Greg would want, or how he would react. But she knew that, as long as nature didn't decide otherwise, she was keeping this baby. She desperately hoped that they could be a family, in the way she'd daydreamed about after the first miscarriage. But if not, and if Stacy had to be considered in the whole equation too, then she'd work something out.

The thought of losing the baby still filled her with cold fear, but now instead of it being a paralysing fear it was a motivating one. She had to do what she could to protect it, to give it a safe place to grow.

Greg was her priority, but he had to share top spot now.

* * *

--

The doctors had instructed Chloe to spend the remainder of the night resting in bed, so she couldn't go back to House's side. Wilson expected her to argue and fight to be back with House as she had when she'd been taken to the ER, but he was surprised when she acquiesced quietly.

Though the evening, Cuddy and Wilson kept up an alternating vigil, visiting Chloe every few hours with updates – mostly to say that nothing had changed.

Early Sunday morning, she was finally allowed to leave her bed. Chloe had a shower and dressed in some clothes she'd had the foresight to bring with her when she'd last been home.

When she entered House's ICU room, Wilson was slumped in the hospital chair, half asleep. His clothes were rumpled and his hair messed up, as if he'd run his fingers through it one too many times. She'd never seen the usually impeccable man look so dishevelled.

She reached out and put a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Wilson," she said quietly, not wanting to startle him. "Why don't you go home and get some sleep?"

Wilson roused from his doze and shook his head to clear it. He scratched his itchy face, unused to the growth of beard that had accumulated over the past few days.

"No, I'm okay. I got a few hours sleep in my office during the night. I just need a shower and some breakfast."

He rose and stretched, checking House's monitors as he did so, pleased to note no changes.

"Would you like me to bring anything back for you?"

Chloe thought about it. She knew Wilson thought she had decided not to keep the baby. She didn't know quite how to explain that her response had been self-preservation, but she wanted him to understand. She wondered if he might be able to give her more insight into what House's reaction might be to her pregnancy. And whether the fact that he had asked for Stacy meant Chloe might be on her own after all.

"Why don't you go have a shower and then we can go to the cafeteria together?" Chloe suggested. "It's still early, so we'll beat the visitor hoards. We can eat quickly and be back." She looked over to House and smiled sadly, reaching over to give his foot a squeeze. "He's not going anywhere for a while yet."

Wilson looked at Chloe with surprise. He wondered what had prompted the invitation, but decided it would be worth finding out.

"Sure, I'll come back and get you as soon as I've cleaned up."

* * *

--

Chloe and Wilson sat at a quiet table, away from the handful of visitors already starting to fill up the cafeteria.

Wilson ate his eggs ravenously, realising he hadn't eaten much the night before. Chloe picked at her pancakes.

"Not feeling well?" Wilson asked, then cringed. It was an automatic question as soon as he'd noticed she wasn't eating, but he knew she'd interpret that he was asking about morning sickness.

"Sorry, none of my business," he added, shoving a forkful of eggs into his mouth.

Chloe gave him a small smile.

"No, the nausea's not too bad this morning. I'm just not really hungry. Besides, the time of day doesn't seem to have anything to do with it."

She forced herself to eat a mouthful and swallow.

"I guess it's something I'm going to have to get used to," she said quietly.

Wilson stilled, the fork halfway up to his mouth.

"So you're going to keep it?"

Chloe nodded. It was simpler than trying to explain that she'd never really intended to have a termination or to describe all the emotions that still flooded her whenever she thought about it.

Wilson smiled at her and breathed a sigh of relief.

"Chloe, I'm so glad. I think you're making the right decision."

Chloe swallowed and gathered her courage to ask the question she wasn't sure she wanted to know the answer to.

"Yeah, but do you think Greg will think so too? He said that he didn't want children, but I always thought he was trying to make me feel better about the fact that we couldn't have any.

"About the fact that _we thought_ we couldn't have any," she corrected herself. "But when we talked about the last pregnancy – what we would have done if I hadn't miscarried, I mean – he was angry when I told him I didn't think that we would have gone through it together. I just don't know how he's going to react. And I don't know why he didn't say anything about it if he knew before he…" she trailed off.

She sighed and twisted her hands together in a knot of worry and frustration.

Wilson waited for her to continue.

"I also feel really guilty for being worried about all this, when all I should be thinking about is him. We should be waiting with him now, not sitting here talking about this," she said quietly.

Wilson reached out a hand and covered both of hers with his in a reassuring gesture.

"Chloe, don't beat yourself up. This is a huge thing in your life and I'm amazed that you're dealing with everything as well as you are."

Their eyes met for the first time in a day and they smiled. Wilson went back to eating his breakfast, giving him a moment to compose his reply.

Finally he put down his cutlery and spoke.

"I don't know how House will react. He's good with children and babies. Better than with adults, I've often thought. I don't know whether he wanted to have kids, but I do know that he suffered after your last pregnancy. He didn't expect to have any feelings about it, let alone grief. But it upset him, it disturbed the balance of his world."

"Mine too," Chloe said sadly.

Wilson looked at her and something clicked in his mind. He wasn't a gynaecologist but he knew that Chloe's history would make the chance of another miscarriage high. He looked at her in new light, suddenly understanding more about the woman sitting opposite him and her reaction to the pregnancy over the past couple of days.

"Why do you think he asked for Stacy?" Chloe asked, her voice quiet.

"I'm sorry Chloe, I should never have mentioned that." Wilson was angry with himself for stooping to the level of revenge. "I'm sure he was just confused. He had a seizure not a minute later, so he probably just found the wrong name in his brain."

But Wilson remembered House's words precisely. _I don't want Chloe,_ he'd said. Then he'd asked for Stacy. Wilson had known House for a decade, but the workings of his mind remained as much a mystery now as they had the first day they'd met. If House pushed away Chloe and their child to chase after Stacy, the woman who had betrayed his wishes during the infarction, then House was more of a asshole than Wilson had ever imagined. Wilson didn't know if he could continue their friendship.

He nodded to Chloe's plate.

"I want you to eat at least two of those pancakes before we go back."

Chloe snorted a little laugh, deciding to take Wilson's advice at face value.

"Already taken on the mantle of protector?" she asked. As soon as the words were out of her mouth she gasped and covered her mouth as if to take the words back. Wilson would only be her protector if something happened to Greg. And nothing like that could happen.

"Let's get back," Wilson said quickly, covering her faux pas. "Eat up."

* * *

--

When they got back to House's room they were both surprised to find that the respirator had been removed. Wilson moved immediately to check House's chart.

"They've stopped giving him the coma medication and he was breathing unassisted, so they took him off the respirator," he translated for Chloe as he read. "His fever has been stable – although it's not completely gone – and they're happy with his kidney function."

"That's all good news, right?" Chloe said, checking she was understanding properly.

"Absolutely," Wilson answered.

Chloe took up her usual pose in the chair, pulling it up close to the bed and leaning her head on her forearms. She held House's hand in hers and looked up at him. It was a relief to see his face and to see that he looked somewhere closer to normal, although his beard was longer than he would have liked.

Wilson pulled his chair over to the other side of the bed, sitting back a little. He picked up a medical journal and picked up his reading where he'd left off earlier that morning.

A little less than an hour later, Chloe felt House's fingers twitch in hers. She stirred, looking up at him watchfully. Wilson felt rather than saw the change in the room and looked up from his journal.

They both watched but House remained still, his fingers limp in Chloe's hand once again.

After a few minutes, Wilson and Chloe were about to go back to their respective poses when House's fuzzy, croaky voice broke the silence.

"If it's a girl, I want to call her Gabriella," he said, just loud enough to be audible to them. Both Wilson and Chloe stared at him, but he appeared to fall back into sleep again, just as suddenly as he'd spoken.

Wilson laughed heartily, relieved and warmed by House's comment, allowing himself to imagine House with a daughter.

He looked over at Chloe and saw she was bemused, but unsettled.

"Where did that come from?" she asked, genuinely confused.

"I have no idea," Wilson answered, still smiling.


	13. Chapter 13

House slept for most of the rest of the day, regaining consciousness twice briefly; once to ask for some water, the other to mutter incoherently.

Cuddy had reappeared, offering to take over for one of them, but neither Chloe nor Wilson were prepared to leave when it was possible House might shortly be awake enough to speak. So she left, heading home for an early night intending to take over the shift first thing in the morning.

It was evening before House regained consciousness for any length of time. He coughed and swallowed, knowing instantly from the roughness of his throat that he had been intubated.

"What happened?" he asked.

Chloe sat up from the slouched position she'd sunk into in the chair and grabbed House's hand. Wilson leapt to his feet and stood over House, shining his penlight to check his friend's reflexes.

"Go away," House complained, trying to shake off the bright light.

"Just a minute," Wilson ordered, wanting to be sure that House was recovering.

"What day is it?" House asked.

"Sunday," answered Chloe and squeezed his hand gently. House narrowed his eyes to look past Wilson to Chloe. His eyes weren't working well and he was finding it hard to focus. But Sunday – that meant he'd lost two days. He licked his uncomfortably dry lips and asked for water, just managing to raise his head as Chloe gently offered him a cup to sip from.

"You had surgery," Wilson explained.

"Yeah, fasciotomy. I figured." House knew when the compartment syndrome tests had been so painful that there was a high chance they'd have to operate to relieve the pressure.

"No," Wilson clarified. "The compartment syndrome tests were negative. Your fever spiked and you had a seizure. That's when Clayton did an aspiration and found osteomyelitis."

House groaned and closed his eyes tightly. His body felt numb from the waist down. His chest ached, but he couldn't feel pain in his leg.

In fact, he couldn't feel his leg at all.

He'd known going into this that he might not keep his leg. But the fact that it was gone was more of a shock than he could manage to deal with. His brain decided the best way to deal with the stress was to fall unconscious again.

* * *

--

When House woke again, he wasn't sure how much time had passed. Wilson and Chloe were both still there, talking quietly to each other. He noted a new level of camaraderie in their tones. They'd always got along well, but now they talked like close friends.

House was trying to piece together the events of the past few days. He kept his eyes closed, needing a moment to think through things before Wilson and Chloe would want to talk to him.

Where had it started? He cast his mind back. _The fat man with meningitis_. He died, because it was a weird presentation that didn't have the tell-tale neck stiffness. They'd tested for everything but by the time they got to meningitis it had been too late.

Then he'd been sick. No, he corrected himself. Chloe had been sick first. He remembered reading her medical record, discovering the secret she'd kept from him. He figured she probably had picked up a bit of stomach flu as well, because it was strange for the low-level nausea that had plagued her for a while to suddenly erupt into full-blown morning sickness at nine weeks. He'd had no reason to even vaguely suspect she could be pregnant. She'd lost weight instead of gaining it, the nausea was easily explained as stress from work, and ever since the removal of her ovary her periods were anything but regular.

Then he'd got sick. He'd been feeling under the weather for a few days. He tried to pinpoint when it had started, but he couldn't. He remembered one day his leg had been itchy, and, during a gap in clinic patients, he'd dropped his pants and found an insect bite. A bit of calamine and it was fine. He tried to remember if he'd worn gloves, if he'd washed his hands between seeing the last patient and treating himself. Such simple precautions, he did them without thinking, and as a result he couldn't recall whether or not he'd done it then.

_Osteomyelitis_. House knew the prognosis, knew the treatment. He knew that it would have been bad, given his high fever; the way his body had reacted to the infection. He'd thought it would be okay this time; knowing that he'd most likely lose his leg. But it wasn't.

He opened his eyes and coughed a little, bringing Wilson's and Chloe's attention to him. Wilson smiled, relief evident. Chloe smiled, her expression harder to read. Relief, fear, sadness, confusion.

"You authorised surgery," he looked at Wilson.

"No, I did," Chloe said, standing closer to him and look him in the eyes. She brushed his hair away from his temple and House wanted to flinch away, knowing what she'd done to him. Even though he'd wanted her to.

"They took my leg," he said, turning his gaze to Chloe, his voice devoid of emotion.

Chloe shook her head.

"No, no…" she started.

Wilson interrupted her.

"No, you're going to be okay. They just had to…"

House struggled to sit up, trying to see down the bed. He suddenly realised he could clearly see two legs under the blanket and the sense of relief was overwhelming. He'd been so sure it was gone…

Wilson's hand pressed him back into the bed.

"Don't move, you have a drain in your thigh."

House took a deep breath, trying to assimilate all the feelings and thoughts swirling through him. He groaned at the tightness in his chest and its marked difference to the lack of pain in his leg.

"I can't feel anything," he said.

"You're on morphine and they've been keeping your leg anesthetised. It'll just take a while to wear off."

House frowned a question at Wilson.

"Clayton found an abscess in your femur. He had to remove a chunk of bone, but they put in a plate and pins. You've got a drain in place, that's going to be there for about a week. Your system's still not clear of the infection, so you're going to be on antibiotics for at least a month. It was golden staph, but thankfully not a resistant strain.

"House, you're going to be fine," Wilson said, encouragingly. "Probably won't move so well for a little while, but then you'll be back to your old annoying self."

House worked through everything that Wilson had said, trying to piece it together in his mind. Things were still fuzzy.

"I'm tired."

"Get some rest, sweetheart," Chloe murmured leaning down to press a kiss against his knuckles.

He heard Chloe's voice, the unexpected and unusual term of endearment sounding strange when he realised it applied to him. He must have been pretty sick.

* * *

--

House realised he must have drifted off when he woke again, once more not sure about how much time had passed. Chloe and Wilson were both sitting, silently reading, not aware of his gaze on them.

Wilson looked tired and haggard, unkempt. Chloe seemed pale, drawn, her eyes red-rimmed. She had no make-up on and her hair was pulled back into a rough ponytail – House knew that was a stand-by hairdo when she hadn't styled her hair properly.

"What's the time?" he asked, his voice still croaky.

Both of them looked up sharply.

"Nearly ten," Wilson answered after a quick check of his watch. "How do you feel?"

House considered the question. His chest hurt. He could guess what that was from and didn't think he wanted to hear that news. He could feel his leg now, the pain distant, but there. And his throat was still scratchy. He wasn't thirsty as such, but he wanted the feel of water to soothe his throat.

"Need water," he said.

Chloe gave him a smile and filled a cup, holding it up to his lips. He noted that her hands shook slightly.

"You look better," she said as she helped him sip. After a few swallows, she put the cup back down and ran her hand down his face, stroking her thumb across his lips lightly.

"I'm so…" Chloe didn't know what to say. She felt like her heart might explode with the emotions assaulting her, knowing that he was awake and going to be okay. Nothing else in the world mattered.

In lieu of putting her feelings into words, Chloe reached for her purse and rummaged around for a tube of lip balm. She held it up to show House and he nodded slightly, giving her a grateful look. His lips felt dry enough to split.

"You are one lucky son-of-a…" Wilson said jokingly, covering his relief. "God must have a reject stamp specially made with your name on it."

House rubbed his lips together before replying, working in the balm.

"Gotta keep Him on His toes," House said, his voice still a little weak.

"Well you do your best," Wilson said. "I don't know how many times you can go into these situations and swear you're going to keep your leg."

"I guess it's just luck they didn't have to amputate this time," House said.

"No," Chloe answered, "…I told Clayton not to amputate. Even if…" she trailed off.

"You told him not to amputate?" House asked. His mind was still working slowly, but he tried hard to put the pieces together. "But Clayton wouldn't have known how bad the infection was before he operated."

Wilson sighed and looked over at Chloe. She was holding House's hand, but he wasn't holding it back.

"The infection could have killed me." He looked squarely at Chloe. "_You_ could have killed me." His voice was flat, devoid of emotion as it sunk in. They hadn't done what he'd asked.

"You let her." He turned accusing eyes to Wilson. "You both signed away my life."

"House, we just did what we thought was best. You said you…"

House interrupted.

"Why didn't you just call Stacy?" he said sarcastically. "She could have given you both pointers."

Chloe took in a quick breath that sounded a little like a sob and dropped House's hand, turning away from him.

"I'm tired." He closed his eyes. It was true, he was tired, but he couldn't bear to look at either of them.

Wilson shrugged, knowing it wasn't worth trying to explain now. House was stubborn and probably still confused from the medication and coma. He walked around the bed and put a hand on Chloe's elbow, leading her gently from the room.

House listened as they left the room, then sighed as he heard the door slide shut behind them. It wasn't fair. First Stacy and now Chloe. Neither of them understood him; neither of them loved him enough to respect his wishes.

* * *

--

Chloe took a deep breath, trying hard not to cry. She didn't know if it was the pregnancy hormones, but she seemed easily moved to tears these days and she hated the idea of herself as a weepy woman.

She turned to face Wilson as they reached the deserted waiting area.

"Why was he like that?" she asked. "I didn't expect thanks, exactly, but I thought he'd be happy that he was okay, that his leg was okay." Her voice trembled with the unshed tears.

"I don't know, Chloe." Wilson was truly baffled. He had no idea why House would react the way he had. Not only had they respected House's own wishes, he couldn't have hoped for a better outcome.

"It could just be confusion from the coma," Wilson tried to explain. "Coma patients often experience mood swings and confusion when they first wake up."

"I know that," she said, irritated. "I know exactly what it feels like."

Wilson gave a grim smile. He had forgotten Chloe's own coma.

"Of course, you do. I forgot."

Chloe flopped down on the nearest chair. She hadn't had a proper night's sleep for almost five days. Now that House was awake and seemingly doing okay, her initial relief had evaporated into tiredness. She was bone-deep tired.

"I'll go back in and talk to him, see if I can get him to see sense." Wilson turned back toward the room.

"Wilson," Chloe said, her voice betraying all the tiredness in her body. "It's late. We've both been here for three days straight. I'm going home. He's not going to make any more sense between now and then. I need sleep. I need to rest."

Wilson sat down in the chair next to Chloe, suddenly running out of energy himself.

"You're right," he admitted reluctantly. "It's best to let him sleep. We can talk in the morning." He registered the exhaustion of both his body and mind, relishing going to sleep for a solid few hours without the background worry over House that had occupied his brain for the past seventy-two hours.

"Do you want a lift?"

Chloe nodded, her mind blank. House was awake. He was going to be okay. That made all the difference in the world. Maybe it would have to be enough.

* * *

--

Clayton visited House an hour or so after Wilson and Chloe had left. House had expected them to return, but he'd drifted into unconsciousness again. When Clayton checked in on him, House's pain had returned. He could definitely feel his leg now. Clayton had upped his pain meds and he'd blissfully drifted into sleep, forgetting the betrayal of his best friend and the woman he loved – the woman he thought loved him.

In the morning light the pain, both mental and physical, returned.

He was going to have to go through recovery, just like he had after the infarction. He was angry. Angry with his body for allowing this to happen again. Angry with Wilson for being the one who told him what happened and for not doing what he had asked. Angry with Chloe for signing his life away and for not trusting him with the news about their baby. Angry with the world for foisting two traitorous women on him.

Chloe arrived at the hospital, early. She'd told Wilson she'd meet him there, knowing he had to be there for work anyway. It was Monday and he had patients to see and a life to continue with.

When she walked into House's room his eyes were closed. She could tell he wasn't asleep, but she didn't say anything, letting him lie there pretending. If he wanted to do that, then let him. She was just grateful that he was still okay, that – according to the nurse she'd asked outside – he'd improved through the night and although he'd had some pain, he'd been doing a lot better.

They remained silent for a long while, Chloe pretending to read a magazine, House feigning sleep. Then suddenly, without warning, he opened his eyes and spoke.

"Are you still pregnant?" he asked, looking at her.

Chloe nodded, wondering why he was asking, which answer he'd be looking for from her.

"Well at least you didn't stuff that up." He looked away from her. "Yet."

Chloe felt as if he'd hit her. The agony of the past few days bit sharply, along with the knowledge that he'd never really know what she'd gone through. As usually happened when they fought, Chloe felt torn between fury and despair, not sure whether to yell or cry. But she'd done enough crying for a while. And yelling wouldn't achieve anything. She closed her eyes briefly, reminding herself of Dr Edwards' advice to avoid stress. _Think of the baby_, she told herself.

"What's the problem Greg?" she asked, trying to modulate her voice.

"What do you think?" he said venomously.

"I honestly have no idea." Chloe was genuinely confused. "Why are you acting this way?"

"I just don't know what I did to deserve this."

His self-pitying tone tipped Chloe firmly into anger.

"Listen, I've been sitting by your side for three days, not knowing if you were going to live or die. Living with the possibility of losing our baby. Not knowing if you even wanted it. Or wanted me."

"What?" Now it was House's turn to be confused.

"I can't deal with this now." Chloe could practically feel her blood pressure rising. She knew she needed to stay calm. She got up and gathered her things.

"I'll come back later. When you've calmed down and we can talk about this and I can understand what the hell is going on."

"Fine. Don't hurry."

* * *

--

Chloe made her way to House's office, not knowing where else to go. She sat down at his desk and turned on his computer, intending to check her emails on the internet. She hoped that focusing on work would be enough to distract her from whatever was happening between them.

Wilson found her absorbed in the computer about a half hour later.

"Hey there," he said quietly, not wanting to startle her.

Chloe looked up and smiled wanly. "Have you been to see him this morning?" she asked.

"Yeah, briefly. I just stopped in. He was asleep."

"He was probably pretending," Chloe muttered.

"You think?" Wilson asked. "Have you spoken to him?"

"I'm not sure if 'spoken' is the word, but yes."

"What do you mean?"

"We argued. He told me not to hurry back." Chloe swallowed hard. Her anger had faded now. "He said something awful," she admitted.

Wilson took in a deep breath, knowing just how nasty House could be.

"I'll talk to him Chloe. I'll make him understand."

"Understand what?" Chloe asked, frustrated. "We did exactly what he told you he wanted. And he survived, he kept his leg. I don't know where this anger is coming from." She sighed.

Then she spoke quietly, as if she didn't quite want to admit it. "I thought if he was okay and his leg was okay and I kept the baby then everything would be all right…"

"It will be fine Chloe," Wilson said firmly. _If I have to go and beat sense into him myself_, he thought.

Chloe picked up her mobile phone from the desk and closed the email program.

"Wilson, you have patients today, right?" she began, hesitantly.

"Yes, why?"

Chloe had just got off the phone from her boss before Wilson had walked in. She'd probably been rash, but her boss had been pleading, almost desperate.

"Do you think you could keep popping in to keep an eye on him? I just told my boss I'd catch the eleven o'clock train to New York. They need help with the negotiations. It's all fallen in a hole and if they can't fix things in the next twenty-four hours, it could be two-hundred million dollars down the drain."

Checking in on her emails, Chloe's had realised exactly how badly things were going at work. She had thought hard about whether or not to go. But Greg was out of danger. And if there was the slightest possibility that she was going to be raising a child on her own, then she needed her job. She earned a lot of money – not as much as Greg did – but she could afford a comfortable life for her and the baby. She needed them to need her, to realise how valuable she was to the company.

"Right." Wilson narrowed his eyes at her, wondering at her motivation for suddenly going on a business trip.

"I'll only be gone overnight. I'll be back first thing in the morning." Chloe took a deep breath. Looking at the expression on Wilson's face, she knew he disapproved. And maybe it was cowardly, running away from House when he was sick, but she had to protect herself. And the baby.

"Chloe, don't run away. House does this. He did it before. He pushed Stacy out of his life and now he's trying to do it to you. Don't let him win."

Chloe shook her head. She didn't want to be compared to Stacy, however well-meaning the intent. She ignored Wilson's plea.

"Can I ask you one thing?" she asked, continuing to pack her pen and diary into her purse. "Please call me if he gets worse or if anything happens. My phone will have to be switched off, but I'll check for messages as often as I can."

Wilson nodded.

She picked up her things and walked out of the office without looking back.


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: **This is the second-last chapter. Maybe an epilogue, I'm not sure yet. If you have a vote for a girl or a boy, let me know. At the moment it's 50/50...

* * *

--

Wilson checked his watch as he made his way down to House's room. He had half an hour before his first patient would be waiting in his office for him. He shook his head, wondering if half an hour was long enough to shake some sense into his friend's thick skull.

"What did you say to Chloe?" Wilson demanded as he opened the door, startling the nurse that was changing the dressing on House's leg. House didn't flinch, lying still, staring at the wound on his leg.

"Nothing," he muttered.

The nurse finished up her work and left without a word.

"So what is going on?" Wilson asked, hearing the edge of anger in his voice. "You have no idea what it's been like for the past few days. What she's been going through. What we've all been going through."

House had been lying there since Chloe had walked away, wondering what he should have said. He knew from her records that she'd asked about having a termination. Edwards' notes had been very clear on that point. _After everything they'd been through_. House wondered if somehow Chloe had put the loss of the past behind her, if maybe he had been more affected by it than she had. When he'd first read that ultrasound report, he'd been so – dare he even think it? – happy. But Chloe was going to take that away from him.

And then Wilson hadn't listened to him about what he wanted with his leg; he and Chloe had taken away the one decision he had left to him. He felt offended, underestimated and betrayed.

"Yeah, poor you. Meanwhile I was just lying here trying not to die."

House's words caused Wilson to halt, but he wasn't sure whether to hit the guy or laugh. At how melodramatic he was being. At how un-House like his emotional words were.

"Yes House, you nearly died. But, get this. _You didn't die_. You're actually going to be fine. You kept your leg, just like you wanted."

"What do you mean just like I wanted? You were the one that made that decision."

Wilson's frustration bubbled over.

"House, just before you had the seizure you asked me two things. You asked me to look after Chloe if anything happened to you and you asked me to make sure they didn't take your leg."

He blew out a breath in frustration. "And then if that wasn't enough, you completely disrespected the woman you've loved for the past year and a half by asking for Stacy."

House narrowed his eyes. He hadn't asked for Stacy. He might have been going into a delirium, but he remembered what he'd said.

"I asked you to take care of Chloe and the baby. Then I told you to let Chloe make whatever decision she needed to make." He lowered his voice as if the next bit was difficult to say aloud. "I told you that I didn't want her to have to go through what Stacy went through."

Wilson paused.

"That's not what you said, House." A slightly sick feeling was beginning to dawn on him. He took a breath as he recalled House's words. He'd said _My leg_. Then _I don't want Chloe_, but Wilson thought now maybe he'd meant to continue that sentence. Then he'd said Stacy's name. Wilson swallowed, for the first time wondering if he could possibly have misunderstood.

"Is Chloe going to have a termination?" House asked, not sure he really wanted to know the answer.

"No." Wilson shook his head. "She's worried about your reaction, though. She wasn't sure you'd want the baby. And she's scared about having another miscarriage, but she's trying hard to be brave."

House tried to get more comfortable in the bed, shifting as he took in Wilson's words. He couldn't believe that Chloe would think that he would want to keep his stupid, broken, dysfunctional leg at the cost of missing out on life with her and with their child. Could she really not know him well enough to know what he'd want?

"How could she think…" House muttered, trailing off, not sure how much of this he wanted to share with Wilson. He wasn't proud of the fact that the woman he'd loved seemingly had no insight into him.

"How could she think what, House?" Wilson asked, still irritated by House's thick-headedness. "Think that you wouldn't want a baby when the last time she was pregnant you talked about her miscarriage in the same terms as an appendectomy? Think that you would chose your leg over the woman in your life when that's exactly what you did last time?"

House closed his eyes, not wanting to hear Wilson's words of reason.

Wilson stood for a while, waiting for House to respond. When it was clear he wasn't going to, he sighed in frustration.

"I have patients today House. I will come back and check in on you. Because Chloe asked me to. She's going into New York for work – some disaster she has to sort out. She'll be back tomorrow. I'll see you later."

He turned and walked out.

* * *

--

_The next day_

Chloe went straight from the train station to the hospital. She'd barely slept, finishing her meetings around midnight and then reconvening with the team early that morning to prepare for the final session. That had concluded by lunchtime and she'd jumped onto the first train that could get her home.

Her mobile phone had had to be turned off during the meetings, but she'd checked it regularly. There were no messages from Wilson, so she had to assume that everything was okay.

She felt incredibly guilty for leaving Greg alone, even if only for twenty-four hours. Even if he was being the most incredible pain in the ass. Even if he was pushing her out of his life. One of her worst-case scenarios was having Greg's baby but no Greg. That was when she thought he might not survive the infection. The idea that he might be alive and well and not want anything to do with her and their baby made her unthinkably sad.

When she walked into ICU and entered House's room, she couldn't help but hear the raspy sound of a respirator. She looked over as she slid the door open further , her stomach dropping to see the respirator back in place and what she recognised as a dialysis machine next to the bed.

_Oh God, how could Wilson not have called!_

She felt as if her legs could no longer support her, but with knees trembling she made her way closer to the bed. It took a few moments for it to sink in. It wasn't Greg. It was an elderly woman, sunken, almost buried by all the medical equipment.

It was all Chloe could do to stand there and keep breathing in and out. She almost didn't hear the nurse step up behind her.

"Chloe?" The nurse called her name quietly. She'd been nursing House and come to know the woman who'd barely left his side. "Dr House has been moved to another room. He's on the fourth floor. I can check the room number for you."

Chloe nodded and tried to smile but failed. This was all too hard. Part of her just wanted to go home and crawl into bed and never get out again. She knew, rationally, it wasn't possible, but when she had been sitting waiting for the train in New York it had been so tempting to just not come back. Catch a train up to the Hamptons and rent a cottage and start a brand new life, one that didn't have all the sharp angles and barbs that her life with House had.

She still hadn't had a decent night's sleep for getting on for a week. That was something she was sure Dr Edwards wouldn't approve of. The thought made her start, she'd had an appointment with her yesterday and she'd completely forgotten.

Chloe gathered herself together, pushed away the shock, and made her way up to the fourth floor. She found a nurse and located House's room. There were two beds, parallel to each other, but the other one was empty, obviously still waiting to be made up, with a pile of sheets, pillows and a blanket stacked on the end.

She walked over to House. He was asleep, for real, and not a drugged, unmoving sleep. He looked just the way she'd seen him in their bed countless times. His face had lost its unhealthy flush and he'd obviously had a shower or been given a bath, because his hair was clean and he'd lost the sweaty, sour smell that Chloe had become accustomed to over the past couple of days.

Despite his cruel words the day before, Chloe desperately wanted to lean in and kiss him, to push her face into his neck and shoulder, feel his arms wrap around her. Make everything the way it was before this. Go back to that night when she'd come home and he'd rubbed her feet for her.

She remembered when he'd crawled into her bed when she'd been in the hospital, but she was too scared of hurting his leg to do the same thing to him.

She looked at the chair next to the bed. After the past few days she now considered the harmless steel, vinyl and foam contraption her enemy. She was still wearing her suit and it had been uncomfortable to sit in on the train – it wouldn't be any better on that.

Reluctantly, she sat down, pulling her notes out from her briefcase, intending to revise them ready for the report she now had to write.

She worked for half an hour or so before House stirred, groaning as he woke.

"Are you in pain?" she asked, concerned.

"Yeah," House sighed. They'd given him a pain management system and he tried the button just in case he hadn't already used up his allotted dose. To his relief it beeped and sent pain killers shooting into his system. He must have been asleep longer than he'd thought.

For a few moments, House just had to lay still and bite the inside of his cheek, waiting for the relief to come. Once the pain was under control, he was able to turn his attention to his visitor.

"How was work?" he asked Chloe.

Chloe looked up from her notes, startled; she thought he'd gone back to sleep. She searched his tone for accusation, but found none.

"Good. It's all sorted out now. Just have to do the paperwork," she said, gesturing to the notes on her lap.

"That's good," House nodded. After the past few months he almost felt as if he could have gone and facilitated the negotiations himself – he'd heard so much about it and lived with its ups and downs through her.

"Have you told them?"

"Told who what?" Chloe asked.

"Work. That you're pregnant."

"No, of course not." Chloe said, horrified. "The only people who know are the two doctors who treated me and James. Oh, and Lisa," she added.

"Oh, just the small, select crowd then," House bit.

"James and Lisa only found out because I've been sick and it's been hard to hide that – being here with them at the hospital every waking moment for the past week and all." Chloe had no trouble biting right back at him.

"Why didn't you say anything?" he asked.

"Why didn't you?" she snapped back.

House narrowed his eyes at her. "I read your medical file. That's how I found out. That should _not_ have been how I found out."

Chloe sighed. He was right, but at the time…

"Greg," she said, pleading with him to understand, "I only found out after I fainted and went back down to the ER. And then, even if I'd wanted to tell you, there was only a few minutes where we were alone together between then and when you went into surgery. I just don't know how I could have…"

She looked down and put the cap back on her pen, knowing she wouldn't be doing any more revising that day.

"…I just wanted you to get fixed up and then we could talk about it. I didn't think I should distract your attention, especially because…" she took a deep breath. "I'm still really scared about having a miscarriage. It's still a really high probability."

House dismissed her concern.

"Not now that you're nine weeks. It's less and less likely…"

Chloe interrupted him.

"I'm eleven weeks, nearly twelve. I had another scan."

She couldn't help smiling as she passed on the news and she saw his look warm to her, for just a moment.

House could feel that sense of happiness he'd originally felt when he'd read her positive result returning. At eleven weeks old their baby had fingers and toes and would already be kicking its little stumpy legs, even though the movements would be too small for Chloe to feel yet. The thought made him equally delighted and despairing. He couldn't help loving Chloe, even if she had betrayed him. He needed to know why she'd done that and whether he could live with it.

"Why did you refuse to let them amputate?" he asked, coldness back in his voice.

"Because Wilson told me that was what you wanted," she answered simply.

"Why would I want to lose my life with you and our child? Do you really think I'm that shallow?"

Chloe gripped her hands in fists in frustration and stood up to pace back and forward as if it helped her to mount her argument.

"It's nothing to do with you being shallow!" she said, her annoyance with him causing her voice to rise. "When they told me what was going on, at first I told them to do whatever they had to do to save you. But then Wilson told me you'd said that you didn't want them to take your leg."

She turned to him accusingly.

"I couldn't believe it!" she snapped. "I couldn't believe that you would chose your leg over me and our baby. But I also knew I couldn't go against your wishes, Greg. I wouldn't do that to you. It was one of the hardest decisions of my life and I never want to go through that again."

Chloe hadn't stopped to draw breath while she defended her position and was left panting slightly. She braced herself, preparing for his rebuttal.

"Calm down, it's not good for the baby," he said mildly.

Chloe just stared at him, wondering what on earth was going on. His calm answer the face of her tirade just made her want to hit him. The fact that he was right made it even more difficult for her to try to slow her breathing and relax.

"Wilson got it wrong, Chloe" House said, his voice so quiet Chloe had to step closer to him to hear properly. "I told him to let you make whatever decision was needed. Of course, I was delirious with fever and I probably didn't make myself particularly clear, but that's what I intended.

"I didn't want you to have to go through what Stacy went through. I don't want us to have to…" He broke off, worried that she might have started to hear the shake in his voice that would betray his emotions about what had happened.

Chloe sat down again, relief at his words making her knees feel weak. She sat for a while, looking at the floor, not sure what to say. When she looked up again the pain meds had done their work and House was asleep.

Chloe looked over to the empty bed on the other side of the room with longing. And decided that she didn't really care about hospital rules. Besides, the worst they could do was wake her up and kick her out.

Pulling off her heels and shrugging off her suit jacket, she dumped the pile of clean linens from the empty bed to the floor. With a quick glance around to check that no one was watching, she reached under her pencil skirt, pulled off her tights and stuffed them into her purse.

Throwing a pillow at the head of the bed and shaking out the cotton blanket, she lay out on the bed and pulled it over her. She turned on her side to face House, watching him. The afternoon sun shone in through the window and she could feel it warming her back. Despite everything, she recognised a feeling of calm descending on her. She was only a week away from being twelve weeks pregnant, when the chances of miscarrying would decrease dramatically. The negotiations had been successful; she'd been able to bring in some much-needed experience to help the team reach an outcome everyone could live with. And Greg was going to recover. He was lying right there, next to her, sleeping peacefully.

Her eyelids became heavy and she had to close them. She knew how much still had to be sorted out, but her exhaustion couldn't bring her to care too much about it.


	15. Chapter 15

House roused from sleep, the pain in his leg waking him. He groaned and pushed the button that would send more blissful pain meds into his system, sighing with relief when it worked again. He ached to roll onto his side and stretch out his body, but he knew he had to keep lying flat on his back to ensure the drain didn't dislodge. He saw that Chloe was no longer sitting in the chair by his bed.

He belatedly became aware of the soft breathing of someone else in the room. He'd already complained to Cuddy about not being given a private room, but she'd just said something about availability and waved him off. House glanced over to check out his room companion and saw that the other patient was rather unusually wearing what looked to be a black skirt and red tank top. He took a better look and realised it was Chloe. She was still wearing her corporate suit, but he could see a bare foot with hot pink toenail polish poking out from the end of the bed. She had mascara smudges under her eyes from going to sleep with make-up on, but otherwise she looked normal, her face relaxed in the deepest sleep.

House spent a while just lying there staring at her. Trying to work out what he felt, where things could go from here. After Wilson's lecture yesterday, and his subsequent conversation with Chloe, he'd been left with much to think about.

While House was lost in thought, his dinner arrived and was plonked down on the tray table without ceremony. But it wasn't until Wilson arrived a few minutes later that House took any notice of the food. He saw Wilson look over at Chloe's sleeping form and smile.

House raised the head of his bed and lifted the cover from his food tentatively.

"You know, I always liked these meals until now," he said, picking at the soggy vegetables on the plate.

"That's because you have no choice," Wilson replied, sitting himself down in the chair.

House gave up on the main dish and picked up the small container of chocolate pudding.

"I had a cardiac arrest, didn't I?" he asked Wilson, digging into the dish with his spoon.

Wilson was taken aback by the question, seemingly coming from nowhere.

"Uh, yes. During the surgery. There wasn't too much damage to your heart, but you will need to take it into consideration in your rehab."

House nodded.

"Speaking of your heart, you know how much she loves you, don't you?" Wilson asked, gesturing to Chloe.

House shrugged.

"If you don't then you're more of an idiot than I thought."

House put down the empty pudding container.

"Can you get me some better food? Like a Rueben or something?"

"No. You know as well as anyone that you can't have anything except what the hospital provides."

"Spoilsport," House complained.

The men's banter penetrated Chloe's sleep and she roused. She lay there for a while listening to them talk before her bladder reminded her of an urgent need.

She yawned noisily to let them know she was awake.

"Hello sleeping beauty," Wilson said, smiling over at her.

"Hey James." Chloe sat up and stretched, feeling so much better for a couple of hours' sleep.

House sat silent, not sure how to greet her, what to say after their last conversation.

Chloe looked at House and gave him a tentative smile.

"How are you feeling?" she asked.

"Better," he said. "You?"

"Better too."

They looked at each other for a while, each sizing up the other, each wondering where they stood.

"Come here," House said.

Chloe sat up and swung her legs over the bed, wondering if she could just forget everything he'd said. Then she remembered some of the things she'd said to him when she'd woken up after her surgery. When she'd tried to push him away – running off to the airport in an effort to escape from him and the grief of their lost baby. He'd persevered, chased her to the airport and dragged her back to the hospital; he'd kept his faith in her and in their relationship. Surely she owed him the same chance.

Chloe jumped down from the bed and padded over to House across the cold vinyl floor.

"Barefoot and pregnant, just the way I like it," he joked, his eyes not leaving hers.

Chloe half-laughed, half-sobbed. She leaned over and hugged him, burying her face in his neck, just as she'd longed to do earlier.

House wrapped his arms around her, inhaling her familiar smell. He remembered all the nights they'd lain together in bed, the calm that he felt whenever he could lose himself inside her. The way she slotted into his life, as if there'd always been a place for her, he just hadn't realised what had been missing until the hole had been filled.

Chloe hugged him hard, hardly daring to believe that things might turn out to be okay. She knew there'd still be things to talk about, but she took this as proof that House was at least willing to do that. And he obviously wanted to keep their baby.

"Woah! Gently!" House gasped, pulling back as much as he could from Chloe's tight grasp. His chest still hurt and she had started to pull him up in a way that put pressure on his leg.

"Sorry." Chloe pulled away and looked into his eyes, smiling tearfully.

"Hey, no need for that," House admonished.

Wilson had sat by silently. For once he wasn't uncomfortable with House and Chloe's affection – he was too pleased by it to mind.

Chloe realised belatedly that Wilson had witnessed everything and suddenly remembered one of the important reasons she'd woken up.

"I really have to pee," Chloe admitted.

House laughed.

When Chloe returned from the bathroom, she noticed Wilson watching her carefully.

"What?" she asked him.

"Nothing…" he paused. "It's just, I swear, since yesterday, you look pregnant."

Chloe blushed. She didn't think she was, but she had to admit that her skirt was feeling tight.


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N (A long one): **Hi everyone. I'm really sorry for the delay in bringing you the last chapter in this story. Life has just been a bit too hectic for me to manage. I hope you enjoy the final installment of this story -- for now, anyway. Who knows, there may be more, but at this stage I want to leave Chloe and House to their own devices for a while. They always seem to find a way to wrangle themselves back into my imagination, so you never know what's next. Thank you all so much for your encouraging messages and wonderful reviews -- you really have no idea what they mean.

Now please go read Gypsy71's story "Action Replay" - the plot of which this story was based on. Thanks again Gypsy! And thanks so much to everyone who's ever left a review and special bouquets to those of you who have been reading and reviewing for a long time, especially: Sokerchick, Momsboys, Gypsy, Ladyfr, Patris, Movieholic, esju, BB, Laniki, and all the other House/OC fans. Sorry if I've accidentally missed anyone. If you've been reading and haven't left a review yet, well, this is your chance! ;-)

* * *

--

House just lay back for a while and watched Chloe and Wilson talk. Wilson didn't quite go so far as to rub Chloe's stomach, but he was clearly taking great delight in her pregnancy.

Chloe perked up a bit under Wilson's flattery and interest and even grabbed a pen and pad from her purse to write down the name of a nursery furniture store that Wilson said was good. Just why Wilson knew of any nursery furniture stores at all was something that House was surprised and a little unsettled by.

Watching them together, House wondered if Chloe might well be better off with someone like Wilson. Someone healthy, someone who could take care of her and the baby. Wilson could take the child camping, play sport, run around the living room playing hide-and-seek. Hell, even get up in the middle of the night and pace with a colicky, crying infant. He had a mental picture of Chloe, Wilson and a chubby baby; a supermarket-portrait in an oval frame; the perfect little family.

But the baby had _his_ blue eyes, _his_ long fingers, _his_ curiosity about life. Wilson could take it camping, but House could introduce it to the world, to science and geography and how the human body works. He could even teach it to play piano, perhaps even guitar. Maybe his kid would grow up to be a rock star – how cool would that be? And every good rock star should have a bit of angst in their childhood. Otherwise, how would they write a half-way decent song?

Suddenly House felt intensely possessive of Chloe and of her invisible passenger. Despite what Wilson said, she still looked exactly the same to House. Maybe – just maybe – a little softer in the face. But still as god-damned sexy as ever. What had it been – not even a week since he'd laid in bed with her? He missed her touch.

"I'm going to sleep here tonight," Chloe said. It was almost a question.

House smiled, a superior look on his face. Wilson might be able to recommend baby furniture, but she was going to stay with him.

"Good."

Wilson bid them both good night and Chloe started to arrange the bedding on the spare bed more comfortably. The nurses who'd come in to check on House periodically hadn't said a word about the disturbed bed linen and Chloe wondered absently if Cuddy had arranged for House to have a double room deliberately, thereby giving Chloe a bed too.

She wanted more than anything to curl up next to House, warming herself with his body heat, but she knew it would be painful for him if she did. Even the disturbance of sitting on the bed made him grimace.

So, feeling like a teenager with a friend in her twin bed, they both tucked in and turned off the lights.

Chloe was on her side, facing him, House on his back but with his head turned toward her.

"Do you remember saying that if we have a girl you wanted to call her Gabriella?" Chloe asked.

"Did I?" House asked, not remembering. But the name rang a bell from a long time ago.

"Do you have a preference?" Chloe asked.

"What, for names?"

"Well, yes, that too. But I was actually meaning a boy or a girl." Chloe was letting herself start to think that maybe, just maybe, things would be okay.

House considered. For some reason he thought it would be a girl; he thought being father to a girl would somehow be easier than a boy. If it was a girl, there'd be no way he could repeat the mistakes of his father, trying too hard to make a boy into a man. But he realised he didn't really mind.

"You never answered me. Do you want to get married?" he asked, suddenly.

"Why?" Chloe asked. She remembered his almost accidental proposal in the hospital room. It had only been a few days ago, but it felt like a lifetime. Getting married had been something she'd been pushing for before he got sick, but it was funny, now it didn't seem important at all.

"What do you mean, why?" House asked defensively. It hadn't been the answer he was expecting.

"I just mean, why? Why now? I know you're not that keen on the whole idea, on the wedding thing, so I'm just genuinely curious," Chloe said honestly.

"I just thought…you know…we're having a kid," House tried to explain, although he was not entirely sure himself of his reasons.

Chloe smiled.

"You're an old-fashioned guy at heart, aren't you?" she asked.

House gave it some thought. Maybe she was right. Maybe it was just that his upbringing made him feel that it was the right thing to do. That a child should have married parents.

"Yeah, I guess," he shrugged. He didn't want a wedding. The idea of Wilson standing up and giving a speech about him finally being tamed or something equally lame made him cringe. But if she wanted to, he'd do it.

"What sort of wedding do you want?" he asked, ploughing on regardless of the fact that she hadn't said "yes" yet.

"I don't know," Chloe said honestly. Fantasies from her younger days of a fluffy white dress and lots of flowers seemed juvenile and silly in the light of the reality of commitment and of loving someone else more than life. "What's the best wedding you've ever been to? You know, the most fun?"

House thought about Wilson's three weddings and the few others he'd attended in his life.

"None. I've never been to a fun wedding. They're just not…fun."

Chloe laughed a little. "No, they're not really are they? No matter how hard people try."

House narrowed his eyes at her.

"Don't you want to…marry me?" he asked, not admitting to the nerves he felt about her answer.

Chloe smiled, amazed that he could still be doubtful of her love.

"I want to promise to love you in sickness and in health for as long as we both shall live," she said, her eyes filling with tears. "But I don't need an audience for that. I just want to make that promise to you, and have you make it to me. What we're wearing, where we are, who else is there; none of that matters."

She sniffed and laughed at herself for getting sentimental.

"But maybe we could have some nice champagne afterwards."

"Just the one for you though," House said, wishing he could reach over and place his hand on her belly.

* * *

--

The first Saturday after House came home from hospital, they flew down to Virginia where they could get married without waiting for a licence. They dressed in their hotel suite together and caught a cab to the registry office.

Chloe wore a red satin evening dress that flowed on a bias-cut from her bare shoulders to her calves. The soft gathers across her stomach skimmed the small bulge that had definitely started to make itself visible. House wore a navy suit, white shirt and a red tie; his crutches creased the sleeves, and he had to sit through the ceremony, but neither of them cared.

They said their vows, just the simple traditional ones, with random registry officials acting as witnesses. Chloe had chosen their rings, treating herself to a band of diamonds in lieu of having both an engagement and wedding ring. House was happy with his plain platinum band.

Then they went to a posh Italian restaurant nearby – the waiting staff making a fuss of them when House had ordered the most expensive French champagne to toast his new wife. They'd then spent the next while arguing good-naturedly about whether or not she would change her name and Chloe had watched, a little enviously, as House had finished the bottle.

In the cab on the way back to the hotel, Chloe sat back and closed her eyes, feeling House's hand in hers. It was not the wedding day she'd dreamed of once upon a time, but she knew it had been one of the best days of her life. She'd remember it always.

When they stepped back into the room, House made Chloe wait at the door. He couldn't carry her across the threshold, but he'd made other arrangements with the hotel staff before they'd left.

He walked over to a table in the small lounge area of their suite and picked up a remote control. Pressing a button, he turned back to Chloe and reached out for her hand. He tossed his crutches to the floor and pulled her into his arms as the slow swell of violins filled the room. They swayed slowly, a sort-of-a-dance, as much as House could manage on his leg.

He half-sang, half-whispered the words that Etta James was singing into her ear.

_At last my love has come along  
My lonely days are over  
And life is like a song  
At last, the skies above are blue  
And my heart was wrapped up in clover  
The night I looked at you  
I found a dream that I can speak to  
A dream that I could call my own  
I found a thrill to press my cheek to  
A thrill that I have never known  
You smiled, and then the spell was cast  
And here we are in heaven  
And you are mine at last_

.

.

.

TO BE CONTINUED…?


	17. Babymoon

**Rather lengthy author's note: **Hi all. Just need to give you a quick intro for this. I finished up writing House and Chloe at the wedding chapter for a couple of reasons. One, the angst was wearing me out! Two, we'd got to a point in the story where I knew the next thing that had to happen was for them to have their baby and I didn't feel up to the challenge of writing that. Lets face it, a dramatic birth is the greatest cliché of medical drama and it's so hard to do it in an original and interesting way. Also, House is the least likely character to be holding someone's hand and saying "breathe, honey," so it's really tough to find a way to write it and keep him in-character. (Well, as in-character as he can be, given that he's married and having a baby…hehe.) And with House and Chloe's story so far, you just know that any child of theirs was going to have to make its entrance into the world in a very dramatic and angst-y way.

But the Fox Forum OC challenge this month for "Vacations" made me start thinking about House and Chloe again. And thinking that they'd probably really like to take a "babymoon" – which, if you haven't heard of it, is the latest trend for wealthy about-to-be parents to take a break before their baby is born. (Google it to find out more about some of the amazing packages you can do.)

So, here you go. House and Chloe, now married, are about to have a short vacation before the birth of their baby. And, of course, being House and Chloe, that won't be without a fair amount of drama and a good splash of angst. Enjoy and let me know what you think….

* * *

--

**Babymoon**

"They _do not _have cigar tasting sessions!" Lisa Cuddy threw the glossy brochure down on her desk and looked over at Chloe with disbelief.

Chloe chuckled and adjusted her thirty-four-week pregnant belly into a slightly more comfortable position on Cuddy's office sofa. "Oh, yes they do."

"And he _still_ said no?"

"Yep. You know how much he hates vacations."

"Yeah, but a babymoon vacation package on a private island in the Florida keys? Couples massages and cigar-tasting sessions for the dads? Honestly, how could he say no?"

"Easy. N. O." House sauntered into the office, overhearing Cuddy's last comment. "I wondered where my rotund wife had got to and I figured you girls would be somewhere together complaining about me."

"I'm not complaining." Chloe held her hands up in defense. "This weekend will be perfect. All I wanted was somewhere to sleep for twenty hours a day, and that's what we'll get, so I don't care where we are."

"Yeah, heading to the middle of nowhere with a woman in her third trimester is such a peachy idea," he sneered.

Chloe sighed. She knew he was going to complain and complain right up until they got to the mountain retreat. She knew it, but that didn't mean she had to like it.

"Greg, you know I've taken care of everything. There's a hospital just a forty-minute drive away. It takes us that long to get _here_ from home if the traffic's bad. We're only going for three days. And there's still six weeks until the baby is due."

"That idiot Edwards has revised your due date three times now – it could be anywhere between three and seven," he argued back. "And there's the plane flight on one of those tiny little planes."

"Which we will be on for exactly thirty minutes. If I can manage to give birth in half an hour I think I would be celebrating." A different idea occurred to her. "Are you scared of the flight?"

No one but Chloe would have read the flicker across House's eyes that told her she was close to the truth. But she knew her husband well enough to know not to let him lose face in front of his boss.

"Of course not!" he said loudly. "But if you give birth at twenty thousand feet, see if I'm gonna care. I'm not even going to tell you to breathe."

She smiled at him. "You wouldn't know what to say anyway. It's not like you've attended any Lamaze classes." She looked over at Cuddy and saw her roll her eyes – she and Lisa had lamented together on House's public lack of interest in the pregnancy, even though both of them knew it was a complete ruse. Chloe had even told Lisa about the night she'd found him rearranging the toys in the baby's room and then snuck back to bed so he wouldn't know she'd caught him.

"Ah, ten years of med school says I kind of know what I'm doing," he pointed out, not for the first time.

"Uh-huh." Chloe had given up on that particular argument. "It doesn't matter anyway. We're all packed. A car will be here in five minutes to take us to the airport. I've made special arrangements with your boss so you will be completely work free for the next three days. No phones, no computers, no television…"

"Wait, wait…" House froze. "No TV? You didn't tell me that."

Chloe put on a mock-innocent face. "Oh, didn't I? I was sure I mentioned it."

"No, no, no. Now we definitely can't go. There's a Flyers game on tomorrow and I need to see it."

"I set the Tivo."

"Oh." House seemed momentarily deflated, but she could practically see his mind working on other excuses. "No phones? I'm pretty indispensible around here you know. What if someone needs me?"

Cuddy stood up from her desk and made her way around to the feuding couple, an indulgent smiled on her face.

"House, this is not negotiable. You're going. Foreman is on call. The bases are covered. Go. Have fun. Do whatever it is that 'babymooners' do."

House began to speak, starting to explain exactly what it was the babymooners did.

Cuddy held up a hand. "I don't want to know. Just go. Have fun."

"Thanks Lisa." Chloe gave her a warm smile. She and Lisa had become quite close friends in the months since House's surgery. Perhaps it was going through that experience together, or even Chloe's pregnancy, but both women suddenly realised that their friendship was worth enough to both of them to work at it – and to work around their respective relationships with House.

"Help me up?" Chloe reached a hand out to House.

"Hey, I'm the cripple here. I've only just got back to my cane from the crutches. And now you want me to potentially damage my rehabilitation by helping fat chicks from the sofa?"

Cuddy sighed. "Here, let me help you." She helped Chloe stand. "Are you sure this is a good idea?" she asked, seeming to suddenly understand that Chloe was really going to be very alone with her husband, who apparently had no interest in being of any assistance to her.

"Yes, I'll be fine, seriously." Chloe gave Lisa's hand a squeeze. "Thanks."

"Take care of her House." Cuddy turned to him and gave him a stern frown. "When the baby's born you're going to have to start thinking about someone other than yourself. Maybe now's the time to start."

"Are you insinuating that I'm selfish?" He put a hand on his chest as if he couldn't believe her words. "Moi?"

"Come on you big lump. Lets get out of here." Chloe decided to intervene before Lisa and Greg got into one of their customary slanging matches.

"Listen sweetheart, I don't know who you're calling a big lump, but have you looked in the mirror lately?"

"Oh, I love you." Chloe reached up to peck a kiss on his lips. "But you are an annoying asshole. Come on. Time to go."

House chuckled and gave her a slap on the rump as she walked past him to the door.

* * *

--

Chloe had organised a driver who helped them with their luggage all the way to the check-in, neither she nor House being particularly capable even with just the two small overnight bags she'd packed. She was right, he was nervous on the flight, but she distracted him, talking about all sorts of stupid things until he laughed. And then told her to be quiet. Another driver met them at the small country airport and loaded their bags into a large SUV. Chloe had his number on a card in her purse – just in case.

The drive from the airport was peaceful, the driver played classical music and they both sat in the backseat. Chloe indulged herself in holding House's hand as the car wound its way up the mountain, the beautiful scenery unfolding in front of them in the late afternoon sunshine. House didn't seem to feel the need to speak, but he held her hand back, which was comforting.

When they reached their home for the next three days Chloe couldn't help smiling as House grumbled his way to the door. From the road, the house looked much like the small shack she'd told him it would be – timber walls, a door, one window. Not much to see at all. But Chloe knew from the website that the mountainside dropped sharply away from the road and the two-level home – well, _mansion_ was a better word really – was filled with beautiful furniture, a huge stone fireplace and breathtaking views from every window. Including the circular, two-person Jacuzzi that Chloe definitely wanted to make use of. With the water at an appropriate temperature and no jets on. Oh yes, she'd read up on it all.

"Come on, I want to show you something." She led him by the hand into the living room, a huge expanse of floor-to-ceiling windows revealing the sun just starting to kiss the mountain tops, the sparse puffy clouds beginning to tinge with pinkness.

While she paused to take in the beautiful room with its plush carpets, leather furniture and warm colors, House seemed uninterested. She sighed at his stubbornness. He was going to have a great time, but there was no way he was going to admit it.

"Look." She pointed, not at the view, but at the massive plasma-screen TV mounted into the chimney above the fireplace – with a fire set ready to be lit.

House let out a low whistle.

"It has cable and will definitely be showing the Flyers game tomorrow. But wait, there's more," Chloe said, putting on her best home-shopping-channel voice. "Look."

She pulled him over and opened a sliding door that revealed a well-stocked library. She pointed at the telephone. "Landline, because there's no cell-phone reception. And Cuddy has the number. Just in case."

House nodded and she could see he was relieved – not having phone access had been worrying him. Not because of work as he'd protested earlier, but because of her. Her heart tugged – it was so wonderful that he was so concerned about her and their baby. She still felt blessed for every day they had together – she had come so close to losing him.

"And one last thing." She pointed out the desk with a latest model PC on top.

"Broadband internet," she said, pulling him over closer to it. "You can download as much porn as you want to, sweetie." She kissed him on the cheek. "But it had better have pregnant ladies in it."

"Oh, kinky." He waggled his eyebrows at her.

"You betcha. Why do you think I wanted a babymoon?" Chloe asked, giving him a seductive look which she then spoiled by yawning. "Kinky and sleepy. I'm gonna conk out on the sofa for a bit, okay?"

House started to pull out the chair under the desk and turned on the PC. "Okay."

For the last week or two it seemed Chloe could only sleep for a couple of hours at a stretch. She figured it was her body's way of preparing her for getting up to a crying infant, but it was still draining. She'd found the only way to cope was to go to sleep whenever – and wherever – she could. That's why her maternity leave had been brought forward. When one of the senior execs found her sleeping on her desk, it hadn't mattered how much she'd protested she could work right up to the birth.

So the babymoon was her way of trying to get some sleep. At home there was phones, traffic, neighbors, noise. When she tried to sleep during the day she was always interrupted. And the babymoon was also a way to get some time alone with her husband. Since his illness there'd always been things to do – rehab to go to, work to be done, appointments to keep. The months since their wedding had flown. She wanted a little quiet time, just the two of them.

But mostly she wanted some sleep.

* * *

--

House got up from the PC once he realised that it was dark enough to need lights on. He went into the living room and, finding some matches on the fireplace, carefully knelt down to light the fire. It didn't take long before the kindling caught and there were plenty of split logs nearby to keep them warm all night.

He didn't bother with any other lights and sat down in one of the large leather recliners next to the fire and looked around the room. He had to admit, it was a nice place. Very nice. The windows were dark now and reflected the shadows cast by the flickering fire. Chloe was still sleeping on the over-stuffed sofa, one hand cradled under her cheek. He checked his watch – she'd been asleep for over an hour, which was a good thing. She'd been starting to get so tired over the past few weeks. Her brunette curls tumbled around her shoulders, her pale skin looked almost pearlescent in the firelight. Her full, pouting mouth called to him, making him want to kiss her, but he didn't want to disturb her sleep.

His wife.

The word still felt weird in his brain. Four, nearly five months married and he still wasn't used to it.

He also still wasn't used to the rush of emotions it provoked and the intense, almost animalistic feeling of protection that consumed him when he looked at her. Especially as her pregnancy progressed and he could see their baby growing inside of her. He wanted to wrap her up in blankets and never let her leave the house. He didn't want anyone near her in case they had some virus she might contract if they coughed. He didn't want anyone touching her – not even the exceptionally patient Tracey Edwards, their OB, who had agreed to keep Chloe as a patient despite having been warned off by every other OB in the hospital.

He'd never thought he wanted children. Well, he had decided that was what he thought since he figured he was never going to get the chance anyway. But now he was having a hard time concealing from everyone how thrilled – how supremely _awed_ – he was that it was happening. And how terrified.

The horrendous responsibility. He wasn't sure if he was up for it, and not just because he lacked a suitable role model from his own family. He'd been living with himself for nearly fifty years now, and he knew himself well. He was flighty. Novelty-driven. Abrupt. Not able to suffer fools. How could he change a baby's diaper for the fourth time in one morning? How could he teach a child to spell? How could he discipline a teenager who got drunk? And that was all apart from the fact that he had a bum leg and was not going to be playing ball with anyone any time soon.

He took a deep breath in and let it go in a rush. He'd been down this path before and knew it never got him anywhere good. He'd decided to do the only thing he could do. Take things one day at a time.

* * *

--

In the kitchen he opened the refrigerator and blessed his wife down to her cotton socks. She'd really thought of everything. The fridge was packed with ready-made food, salads and snacks and even had a substantial supply of his favourite beer. She was really going all out on this vacation. He had no idea how much it was costing, but he decided he really didn't care.

He pulled out a lasagna and read the label affixed to it, putting it in the oven and setting the temperature. He moved carefully these days, a bit more slowly than he had before the osteomyelitis. His leg didn't hurt that much more than it had before, it was just that he felt less secure with it, less trusting of its strength.

"You? Cooking?" He turned at Chloe's surprised voice and saw her standing in the kitchen door.

"Me. Reheating. Lasagna."

"Ah, that's more like it."

He walked over and enveloped her in a hug. "Sleep well?"

She hugged him tightly back, as close to him as her belly would allow. "Yes. How long was I out?"

He checked his watch over her shoulder. "Nearly an hour and a half. Feel better?"

"Yeah, but my back is killing me. That plane seat was really uncomfortable. I probably should have slept in the bed."

"Ah, we'll have plenty of time in bed," he said, suggestively.

"Speaking of which…" Chloe's hands started roving over him in a way he recognised. "How long will the lasagna take?"

"It says half an hour."

"Enough time?" She pulled back to smile at him.

"Oh yeah, baby." House wasn't taking any chances she might change her mind. He grabbed her hand and started pulling her towards the bedroom. "It's been, what? Two weeks? I'm sorely in need of marital relations."

* * *

--

Chloe woke with a groan. She already desperately loved the baby inside her, but it didn't stop her cursing it when she woke up uncomfortable and still tired. She squinted at the clock – two am.

After their entirely satisfactory 'marital relations', as House insisted on calling it, they'd eaten their lasagna and then cuddled up on the sofa, watching the fire and talking about nothing. Then they'd watched a late-night movie and gone to bed. She'd not even been asleep for two hours and now – of course – she had to go to the bathroom.

She got up as quietly as she could, leaving House sleeping. In the bathroom she was suddenly surprised by a wave of nausea that had her quickly running for the toilet. It was something she should have been over, but it had happened every now and then throughout her pregnancy.

Her back still hurt and she was too awake to go back to bed, so she pulled on a sweater over her nightgown and padded out to the living room, grabbing a glass of water on the way to rinse out her mouth. Embers from the fire were still burning on the grate and she pulled a small log out of the pile and put it on top, bringing the fireplace back to life.

Chloe wandered into the library and grabbed a trashy romance novel, thinking she'd try to read for a while and then go back to sleep, but lying on the sofa to read wasn't comfortable. Instead, she got up and walked around the room, pacing along the windows, absorbed by the almost impenetrable darkness outside.

She heard a noise and turned to see House walk out into the living room, naked, rubbing his face with both hands.

"Can't sleep?" he asked, stifling a yawn.

"No." Chloe grimaced and rubbed her back. "This is definitely your child. It rates a ten on the annoyance factor."

He looked at her and narrowed his eyes, watching closely as she paced back and forth in front of the windows, pressing her hand into her back.

"You're in labor," he said.

Chloe scoffed at him. "Don't be ridiculous. I think I'd know if I was in labor. I've just got a sore back. I've had a sore back for weeks now."

He shrugged. "Okay. _Mother knows best_," he said sarcastically. He grabbed an afghan from the sofa and curled up on the recliner near the fireplace, pulling the blanket over himself and closing his eyes.

Chloe smiled at him. She walked over and pressed a kiss to his forehead and then settled into the sofa, lying back and trying to feel sleepy again. She watched the flames crackle in the fireplace and enjoyed the silence, broken only by House's slow breathing, the fire and her own occasional grunts as she tried yet again to find a comfortable position. She hated the fact that she could no longer move without grunting.

Just as her discomfort had got to the point that she was starting to think she'd need to get up and move around again, House spoke without opening his eyes.

"Okay, so that's the third time in half an hour you've groaned in pain. And the groans just happened to be ten minutes apart."

Chloe had a sudden sick feeling, the memory that she'd already thrown up dinner bringing little relief.

"What? How do you know?"

Again without opening his eyes, he pointed to the wall on the far side of the room where a large railway clock hung on the wall.

Chloe clenched her fists, her frustration with his seemingly omniscient powers of observation warring with her rising feeling of panic.

"Does your back still hurt?" he asked.

"Yes." Chloe's voice was quieter now, she could even hear the fear in it herself.

"Try getting on your hands and knees. The baby's head is probably against your spine."

Chloe could feel her fear turn into anger, conscious that it was a defense mechanism, but unable to stop it.

"Yeah? How would you know? It's not like you came to any of those stupid fucking birthing classes with me." Despite her angry words she moved from the sofa and tried to position herself as he had advised.

Wisely, this time he refrained from reminding her about ten years of med school. Instead, he got up from the chair and, once she was on the floor, put firm pressure on her lower back with the heel of his hand.

"Ooh. That's better."

"Uh huh."

They both stayed still for a moment, each taking a moment for the reality to sink in.

When the pain had passed, Chloe moved closer to the sofa, using it to hoist herself up to standing again. She looked at him in a mixture of fear and disbelief.

"Fuck, Greg. What are we going to do?"

He laughed at her. "I love the potty mouth you've suddenly developed. And I believe it was you who insisted on a _babymoon_ in the middle of nowhere…"

"Not helping," she said warningly.

"What are we going to do?" he asked her back, still half laughing. "_I_ have no idea. But I'm sure _you_ have it all planned out."

Chloe breathed a sigh of relief. He was right. Of course there was no need to panic, she had made all the arrangements just in case something like this happened. All they had to do was call the driver to pick them up and take them to the hospital in the nearby town – and they already had her records because she'd asked Dr Edwards to send them through. From when they made the call to when they got to the hospital would be an hour – worst case. And at three in the morning? Easy. Now all she had to do was worry about pushing a seven pound baby out of her.

Suddenly her anxiety returned.

"It's too early, isn't it?"

He shrugged. "Well despite what that idiot Edwards says, _I_ think you're at least thirty-six weeks, so it should be fine. And the baby doesn't seem to think it's too early."

"I don't think I can do this," she said in a small voice.

"Geez, we've got to that awfully fast," House replied. "Normally you'd have been trying to push the thing out of you for a couple of hours before you get to the I-can't-do-it stage."

"Again I say: _not helping_."

"Of course you can do it," he said mockingly.

"Say it like you mean it!"

He looked up at the ceiling and took a deep breath, breathing out slowly before looking back at her.

"Let's just wait a little longer to be sure they're not Braxton Hicks and then we'll call the car guy, okay?"

Chloe just looked at him with a funny expression on her face until she finally reached out a hand.

"Give me that rug, will you?" she asked calmly.

House frowned but grabbed the cotton throw and passed it over.

"What…" he began, before seeing that Chloe was using the rug to wipe the inside of her thigh. "Ah. So not Braxton Hicks then."

"No."

House got up from the sofa. "Car guy's phone number?"

"In my purse, the left-hand pocket. His card has a picture of a Mustang on it."

"And he couldn't have picked us up in _that_?" House complained, grabbing her purse and heading into the library to the phone.

* * *

--

"What do you mean he's still not answering?"

Almost an hour – and at least twenty-five phone calls – later, House could tell Chloe was starting to really panic.

"These contractions are painful," she informed him, her voice just this side of screechy as she kept up her pacing in front of the windows. "And it's not some imaginary, fluffy, all-for-a-good-cause pain that the midwives described in class. This is real, honest-to-God, it-fucking-hurts pain. That breathing stuff is bullshit. I need drugs."

"I told you the Lamaze classes were a waste of time," he said, but under his breath, so she couldn't quite hear.

"I need to get to the hospital…" she moaned, doubling over as another contraction hit.

"Stop walking around!" he said sharply, realising that he was starting to feel a little anxious too. Rationally, he knew that ninety-nine per cent of births were completely straightforward and as long as things were sterile there was really barely any reason to go into hospital. Unless, of course, you were a woman with Chloe's medical history who shouldn't even be pregnant in the first place.

"But it hurts less if I walk," she said, pouting and on the verge of tears, and he immediately felt bad for yelling at her.

"I know, but you'll make it go faster. And that's probably not a good idea right now, yeah?"

He started doing a mental inventory of what he might need if he had to do the delivery. Scissors, towels, a sharp blade…

"You can deliver the baby if we have to can't you?" Chloe asked him, as if reading his mind.

He shook his head, not quite ready to answer the question.

"I mean, you're a world-famous doctor and all…" she tried to joke.

"Which would be fine if I was a world-famous obstetrician. It's been twenty years since I did OB rounds."

"But you delivered a baby a couple of years ago – you told me about it."

"Yes, with an OB looking over my shoulder and every piece of medical equipment money can buy at hand." He looked at her, trying not to make her panic further by telling her that he really, really thought she needed to be in hospital to have this baby. Even just for the pain relief if nothing else, because she was obviously experiencing back labor. "I'm not some mountain country doc who can deliver inbred babies with one hand and suture shotgun wounds with the other. I'm a city-hospital doctor who likes MRIs and monitors and all those other machines that go _ping_."

He saw the tears welling in her eyes again and felt both helpless and irritated. That animalistic desire to protect was blaring sirens in his head, sending adrenaline through every muscle fibre in his body. He was coiled, tense, ready to do… something. He just didn't know what.

"Here. Let me see if I can feel how the baby's head is positioned. I know it hurts to lie down, but I'll be quick."

Just as he was helping her to lie down on the sofa, the phone rang, its noise at once startling loud and absolutely welcome.

"Shall I get that?" he asked, pretending to pause in thought.

"Answer the fucking phone," she said, her voice a low growl.

He limped quickly to the library, calling over his shoulder. "Good one, honey. You sounded just like the chick in _Poltergeist_ then."

The driver explained he was a heavy sleeper, but the last call had woken him. Seeing the multiple missed calls, he realised what must be going on and had dressed and was on his way. Would only be another five minutes.

House had dressed, gathered up a few of their things and when the guy arrived he helped Chloe as best he could into the car, this time thankful it was _not_ a mustang. Chloe's contractions weren't even five minutes apart yet, so he knew there was no longer any need for panic. They'd get to the hospital in plenty of time, and soon enough they were speeding along the winding mountain road, House just barely restraining himself from telling the guy to drive more carefully.

"I don't know why you folks didn't just call the paramedics," the driver grumbled as they drove along. "They would have been here in twenty minutes. Maybe thirty."

Chloe looked at House wide-eyed and clapped a hand to her mouth.

House smacked himself in the head. "Paramedics," he echoed. "Yeah, we'll remember that for next time."

Chloe started giggling. Uncontrollably.

House stared at her. How could they have been so immensely stupid? He figured both of them were such city slickers that they simply assumed that anywhere without mobile phone reception couldn't possibly have paramedics. He couldn't believe he'd actually been considering delivering the baby himself.

Her laughter was infectious. Then the two of them started howling with laughter, gasping for breath as tears ran down Chloe's face.

"Ow!" She gasped, her laughter suddenly coming to a halt and her face grimacing with pain.

"Take a breath in and count it out," the driver called from the front seat. "Come on. One, two, three, four…" Chloe whispered along with him, slumping back into House's arms when the contraction faded.

The driver made eye contact with House in the rear-vision mirror. "Three kids," he explained. "You never forget those Lamaze classes."

"Uh, yeah, sure," he answered, squirming a little. Thinking, maybe he should have gone to at least _one_ class…

* * *

--

"Chloe, you need to listen to me." The doctor was trying to explain something and Chloe knew she should be listening, but the cloud of pain enveloping her seemed to stop things from getting through. Chloe felt the doctor pulling on her legs, but she had no energy left to help him.

She could vaguely hear House ranting at someone in the background and part of her realised she should try to stop him, that these lovely people in the tiny country hospital wouldn't know how to deal with him. He'd been pretty much making a pest of himself since they'd arrived and, as her pain had worsened, Chloe had been spending less time monitoring him. Finally she heard the irate tones of a nurse.

"Doctor House, if you don't get out of my way…"

"Greg," she reached out a hand to him. "Please…"

He clasped her hand and sat down on the edge of the bed next to her.

"The fetal monitor's ten years old and there's no full-time anesthetist," he said angrily.

"I don't care. I just want you to stay with me. Please?" She closed her eyes, overcome with another wave of pain.

He didn't answer, but Chloe felt him wipe her face gently with a cool, damp cloth, still holding her hand tightly.

The pain wasn't like contractions anymore. The contractions had been easier to deal with; brief, intense spurts of pain followed by enough time to catch her breath and get ready for the next one. Now it was constant, a burning, ripping agony that just went on and on and on…

Chloe figured she must have blacked out when she realised that the scene had changed without her being aware of it. There was a lot of activity going on around her now. And Greg was yelling again. _They'd probably call the police to lock him up._ That'd be right. She'd give birth and then have to crawl out of bed to bail him out.

"Don't get arrested…" she said, realising as the words left her mouth that it was a rather absurd thing to say.

As soon as she spoke, House came back to her side, although he didn't stop yelling. "Do you want a moment to go look up shoulder dystocia on the internet?" he asked someone. "'Cause we've got _plenty_ of time," he added sarcastically.

Chloe knew what that was without looking it up on the internet. It was the scariest thing they talked about when they covered potential birth complications in her Lamaze classes.

"Is the baby okay?" she asked. Her fear for the baby and for herself broke through her haze, allowing her to focus. She put her hand out and grabbed House's arm, trying to draw his attention to her.

He grabbed her hand and leaned down to talk to her with a serious expression. Chloe vaguely registered that he was wearing scrubs.

They'd talked about this. About what she'd want if things went wrong. She'd insisted that he tell her everything, be completely honest about the situation. Right now she wished she'd asked him to lie, to tell her everything would be okay, to put off the bad news as long as possible.

"No, the baby's not doing very well, Chloe."

Chloe didn't think she possibly had the energy for it, but she began to cry.

"The baby's shoulder is stuck and it's getting distressed. We've tried to move it into a different position, but it's not working, so you need to have a caesarean right away. And you're going to have to have a general anesthetic because there's no one here qualified to do a spinal block."

Chloe registered the tone of derision in his final statement, but couldn't bring herself to care. If it got her baby delivered safely, it didn't matter. Nothing mattered as long as the baby was okay.

Chloe had begun to get vague about who else was in the room, but she recognised the lovely, grandmotherly nurse in the crocheted blue cardigan who'd greeted them when they first arrived and who had coached her through the first couple of hours of labor, before things had started to go bad. She gave Chloe a reassuring smile and a pat on the arm.

"You'll be right, love," she said.

Then the other doctor said things that included the word _hemorrhage_ and the next thing Chloe saw was a black mask being lowered over her face. She only had a few moments before she sank into blackness, but she wished she had enough time to talk to Greg, to tell him she loved him, to ask him to look after their baby. All she could do was squeeze his hand as hard as she could and hope he understood.

* * *

--

Chloe felt hazy and fuzzy and it took a long time for the room to come into focus. The first thing she saw was House sitting in a chair near her bed, still wearing scrubs. He had his head down and she thought he had his eyes closed. Whether he felt her gaze on him, she didn't know, but he suddenly looked up and, as soon as he saw she was awake, he smiled. A beautiful, wonderful smile.

He got up from the chair and only then did Chloe notice the small bundle of white blankets tucked in his arm.

"Chloe…it's…he's…our son." His voice caught on the word.

He leaned over, showing her the tiny pink face, screwed up and almost grumpy-looking. He was fussing quietly, his little fist waving haphazardly.

The door opened and the grandmotherly nurse from earlier walked in.

"Oh, you're awake love?" she said in her soft English accent, fussing around the bed. "Good. You've met your little man?"

Chloe was trying to take the baby from House's arms, but she felt too weak and was worried she'd drop him.

"I can't…" she said, almost sobbing with the disappointment.

"Come on then to me, sweetie." The nurse scooped the baby from House with a practiced arm. "Go on Doctor House, you deserve a lie down too."

Chloe realised that she was in a larger-than-normal hospital bed, and House walked around to the other side of her and lay down and stretched out with a grateful groan.

The nurse encouraged Chloe to lie on her side as best she could, and after strategically placing a few pillows, lay the baby down in the crook of her arm. It wasn't quite like holding him, but she could feel his little body pressed against her and it was wonderful.

"Thanks Margaret," House said, watching.

Chloe frowned at him. _Thanking a nurse? Wait a second – knowing her name?_ Had he been arrested after all and this woman had bailed him out?

"Well, love, shall we try to give him a feed? He's going to be starving," Margaret encouraged. She tilted the head of the bed and then sat down next to Chloe and helped her with her first breastfeed. Chloe needed both House and the nurse's help to hold the baby to her breast, feeling too weak from the birth and the anesthetic, but apart from that it was far easier than she had expected. She mumbled something to that effect and the nurse gave her a smile.

"Well, you deserved something to come easily after that labor," Margaret said cheerfully, gently burping the baby and then lying him down again on the bed between Chloe and House, who'd stretched out again, rubbing his leg.

"What happened?" Chloe asked, as pieces of memory floated back to her. The yelling, in particular. "Did you get arrested?"

"What?" House twisted around to lie on his side facing her. He seemed honestly surprised by the question. "What for?"

"All the yelling. The abuse. I was sure they were going to call the police to get you removed."

House started to sputter a defense when Margaret interrupted.

"Oh no, love," she said. "Our Doctor Martin was right pleased that your husband was here. Not often he sees a birth like yours."

"I was just doing Gordon Ramsey to his apprentice chef," House said. "I think he kind of liked it."

Margaret chuckled. "Well, don't tell anyone I told you this," she said in a confiding whisper, "but he went straight out afterward and called some friend of his to tell him all about it."

House put a hand on Chloe's arm. She turned to look at him, pausing at his serious expression.

"Chloe, there won't be any more babies," he said gently. "You can't do this to your body again. You barely survived this time."

Chloe smiled sadly, but she wasn't upset. "I didn't think we'd get this one. One miracle is enough for me."

"And what is the little miracle's name?" Margaret asked. "I need one for the crib. Or will 'Baby House' do?"

Chloe smiled at her husband. "Christopher James," she answered. It was the name they'd chosen if it was a boy. Lucky in a way, because they still hadn't agreed on a girl's name.

"Christopher House," Margaret repeated. "Lovely."

She bustled around a little longer, giving Chloe a check over, seeming satisfied with how she was doing. Chloe felt vaguely unsettled lying in bed with House while a stranger fussed around them, but figured after what had happened in the last several hours, she pretty much had no dignity left anyway. Eventually Margaret left the room, encouraging them both to rest.

Chloe looked over at House. "So much for our babymoon."

He smiled. "Yeah. Good idea of yours, that was."

Chloe felt like giving him a playful slap, but even thinking about moving her arm was too much effort.

"It would have been a good idea if Christopher hadn't had other plans," she said instead.

House yawned. "If the idea of it was to get some sleep, then it failed miserably."

"Have you been awake the whole time?"

"Yeah. He just screamed when they put him down, so I've been holding him. He obviously missed his mommy," he said, nodding at the now deeply asleep infant lying on the bed between them.

"Oh." Chloe felt overwhelmed by conflicting emotions. Sadness that she'd missed out on the first few hours of her son's life. Incredible gratitude that his father had been there for him instead.

"He looks kinda grumpy," Chloe said, running a finger down Christopher's cheek – the softest skin she'd ever felt and the most beautiful grumpy face she'd ever seen.

"So would you be if you'd been through what he has. It's not much fun to nearly die before you're even born."

"Oh, God," Chloe whispered, starting to cry again, her tears a mix of fear and relief. "I can't believe we nearly lost him."

"And you," House said quietly.

Their eyes met and Chloe saw how exhausted he was. His eyes told her things she knew he would never say: how scared he'd been, how hard he'd worked to make sure that they both made it through.

"But hey, he's here isn't he?" House said, brightening. "Just as stubborn as his old man."

House reached out to hold her hand. Chloe remembered how it had felt when she'd nearly lost him to the osteomyelitis. She suddenly felt vulnerable, knowing that her heart and soul belonged completely and absolutely to the two people lying in bed with her.

Chloe and House both watched their son sleeping between them for a long while, and when their eyes met they smiled and they both had tears in their eyes. House carefully leaned over Christopher to give Chloe a soft kiss.

"Get some sleep," he suggested, lying back and closing his eyes, still holding her hand in his.

"Okay," Chloe replied, but she knew she wouldn't. Not yet anyway. Not when she had the two most important people in the world to look at.

Her boys.


End file.
